


Tricksters

by Bookwormgal



Category: Gargoyles (Cartoon)
Genre: 1990s, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Blood, Christmas, Comic Continuation Canon, Complicated Relationships, David Xanatos Can Care For More Than One Person, David Xanatos Is Complicated, David Xanatos Is Not Good At Feelings, David Xanatos Is On Better Terms With The Heroes, David Xanatos Is Still Morally Questionable, Don't Take Medical Advice From Fanfics, Enemies to Almost Friends, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Families of Choice, Family, Fight Scenes, Friendship, Gargoyles, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Hospitals, Kidnapping, Loopholes, Magic, Near Death Experiences, Or As Queerplatonic Relationship, Owen Burnett Is More Vulnerable than Puck, Post-Canon, Puck | Owen Burnett and David Xanatos Are Hard To Define, Robots, Scheming, Serious Injuries, Tricksters, Worldbuilding, Worry, can be read as pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormgal/pseuds/Bookwormgal
Summary: Puck sided with a human against Oberon. He fought to keep the child away from Oberon. And between that and his refusal to attend the Gathering when summoned, Puck’s actions demonstrated a complete betrayal of their lord and ruler. He proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oberon no longer commanded him, his obedience, his devotion, or his fealty. His loyalty now belonged firmly to a human by the name of David Xanatos.The child should have been brought back to Avalon and Puck’s life should have been forfeit. That was Oberon’s right as ruler.But a deal was struck instead. Alexander would be raised by his parents and tutored in magic while in the outside world. And while Puck would teach and protect the child, he would be thoroughly punished for his betrayal. He'd chosen the humans and the existence that he’d forged there while adopting a human identity over obedience and his home in Avalon? Then outside his lessons and protecting the child, Puck would be completely stripped of his magic and bound in that mortal shape.With a mortal shape came mortal vulnerabilities. And a loophole that another trickster could use.
Relationships: David Xanatos/Janine "Fox" Xanatos, Elisa Maza & David Xanatos, Goliath/Elisa Maza, Puck | Owen Burnett & David Xanatos
Comments: 44
Kudos: 28





	1. December 23, 1996

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikkimouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/gifts), [paintedrecs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedrecs/gifts).



> Once upon a time in the early 90s, I was a little kid who was first watching Disney’s newest afternoon cartoon series: “Gargoyles.” It was everything that a Disney Afternoon Cartoon was not supposed to be. It was dark, it had story arcs and character development that wasn’t reset every other episode, it had characters firing actual guns at times (including one of the heroes actually getting shot in an early episode because gun safety is a real issue and they need to be treated responsibly), it had occasional on-screen depictions of blood, it had complex villains, it had action and violence, it had amazing worldbuilding, and it had David Xanatos saying “hell” in the second episode. I used to watch the VHS tapes of the first season all the time and I loved the show. Now I’m older and revisiting the cartoon (and poking at all the info that the creator shared outside of the show). And somehow I’m already getting inspired to write something for the fandom years after everyone else has apparently moved on.
> 
> Actually, I know how it happened. And those who are to blame? You know who you are…
> 
> Now, from my understanding of things, the first two seasons are considered canon while the third season (“The Goliath Chronicles”) are ignored due to the lack of involvement of the creator and an assortment of other issues regarding plot and characterization. Instead, people prefer to follow the comics after the second season. But there was one episode entitled “Ransom” in that non-canon season that involves a human arranging for the kidnapping of Alexander Xanatos and holding him hostage in order to get his hands on a gargoyle, using both to further his political career during the uncertain times after the world learns about gargoyles. Most people use Fox’s behavior during the episode as a clear demonstration of what was wrong with the third season since last time someone tried kidnapping her son, she actually tried fighting back and being proactive about it.
> 
> Regardless, apparently Greg Weisman did have a plan for someone trying to kidnap Alexander Xanatos. The story as originally planned would have centered around the four tricksters (Puck, Raven, Anansi and Coyote), but later was modified to center on Raven. Which I thought would be a more interesting way to handle it. And apparently my brain took that idea and decided to run with it. So here I am trying to adapt the concept to fit into the proper canon of the comic continuation instead.
> 
> Since Greg Weisman revealed a lot about his planned timeline, I took a look to see where the ideal place to slip the fic in would be just in case I could find something that would work. For the most part, there is a nice gap between November 16th, 1996 and January 10th, 1997 that would theoretically work. The only real problem with that is that time frame involves Lexington, Hudson, Coldstone, and Coldfire being out of the country due to visiting the London Clan. Which is a shame because Lexington is the gargoyle who is the closest with Alexander.
> 
> Anyway, I don’t own “Gargoyles,” the various characters, or clearly anything resembling sanity. What I do own is some DVDs of the series and the first half of the comic continuation (I haven’t been able to buy the second half yet without paying an insane amount of money, but at least I know what happens in it). So I hope you guys enjoy the results of my trip down memory lane with this fic. Thanks.

Avalon’s beauty and perfection could only be described as magical. For multiple reasons. The Isle Avalon could not be found on a map of the world; it was reachable only by magic. Despite being part of the Earth, its true location was found at a rather large nexus of native Earth magic, and therefore was incapable of being reached in a three-dimensional manner. And leaving was somehow even trickier. Avalon would not send someone where they wished to be, but rather where they were _needed_.

Those who were native to the isle can make it suit their needs to an extent. The island had experienced only eternal summer under its current ruler and time moved at a slower pace than in the outside world. In essence, Avalon was magic itself given solid shape. Only natural considering those who claimed it as their home.

They had been called many things over thousands of years. They are the Third Race. The Fair Folk. The Dark Elves. The Faeries. But their preferred description would be the Children of Oberon. They were a species with powerful innate magic, creatures of legend and lore. Beings of pure magic, not flesh and blood. Natural shapeshifters who could take on the forms of humans, gargoyles, and beasts both normal and fantastic. Essentially immortal, none ever being claimed by old age and only a few slain by other means since even that would be a mighty task. Only cold iron could guarantee to bring them low. They were the origin of many of humanity's legends about faeries, elves, and other otherworldly beings, including even some of the gods of mythology. And with the Gathering, the entire population had returned to their native homeland for the first time since Oberon temporarily banished them into the world for a thousand years to learn humility.

Well, the entire population except one.

It hadn’t been only about a week on the isle, but none of Oberon’s Children could resist the temptation to gossip constantly among each other about the unbelievable scandal. No one would dare disobey Oberon. He was their lord and liege. They owed their unwavering loyalty and fealty to him. His word was law. If he cast them out of Avalon to learn a lesson, then they would wander the world among the mortals until he allowed their return. And if he commanded their presence, then they must appear before Oberon immediately. That was how it was meant to be. None could deny him without consequences with the exception of Titania, who was allowed to come and go as she wished.

But two did the unthinkable and resisted the call to the Gathering. The Banshee tried to ignore the summons. And for that stubborn resistance, the Weird Sisters dragged her back to Avalon and Oberon muzzled her. For one whose power was based upon her voice, the forced silence was a heavy punishment. Everyone had taken the opportunity to stare and ridicule her for her foolishness for the last several days. In any other circumstance, the Banshee would have been the ultimate source of gossip for at least a few centuries. And yet somehow she didn’t end up as the biggest surprise.

Puck was both a trickster and one of Oberon’s favorite servants. Everyone knew that he was favored by their lord, something that the other tricksters resented. It theoretically gave him more freedom and leeway than most of Oberon’s Children. He could get away with more and loophole around his restrictions. And even if he should anger one of his fellow Children of Oberon, very few would risk retaliation because of his favored status. As long as Puck obeyed direct commands from his liege, Oberon didn’t care what he did. All that he demanded was Puck’s obedience, faithfulness, loyalty, devotion, and fealty; that Puck understood that Oberon’s should be placed above all others. A simple enough expectation. It was the same thing that he demanded of all those that he ruled over.

But like the Banshee, he refused to return when summoned for the Gathering.

And they heard when Oberon went to fetch the absent trickster, he found far more than he expected. A grandchild of Titania, newly born and with such potential for magic. A child that Oberon and Titania wished to claim, rather like the old and forbidden tradition of swapping changelings. But not an exchange. Merely a retrieval to ensure that young Alexander Xanatos was properly educated and allowed to reach his potential rather than letting his innate gifts atrophy and wither. A better fate than leaving him among ignorant humans. After all, he was not fully human himself. That gave Oberon’s claim legitimacy.

But when he tried to take possession of the child, the mortals fought back. Not that they truly stood a chance. Not against Oberon. But they fought back against his claim on the babe and Puck sided with the human. Puck _fought back_ against his lord.

Even thinking about it now, casually wandering around the palace among his brethren, made Raven shake his head at the sheer impudence. They were both tricksters, so he could relate to Puck making unexpected and interesting decisions. A little chaos to stir things up was always fun. But there were certain lines that no one should cross. And disobedience and out-right rebellion was the height of insanity.

Raven honestly couldn’t understand his reasoning. Perhaps he enjoyed living out in the world among humanity too much to want to return home quite yet. But the rest of it… Getting attached to a short-lived human, no matter how interesting and unusual, was already an act of foolishness. Humans were lucky to survive a single century. They could be entertaining on occasion, but they weren’t actually that good for anything else. With magic and proper guidance, like Grandmother looking over that one family in order to continuously thwart Raven during an ongoing territory dispute, some mortals could be mildly annoying. But in the end, they were still only humans.

Puck sided with a human against Oberon. He would have known that he was outmatched from the beginning, but he chose the human instead of his lord. He fought to keep the child away from Oberon. And between that and his refusal to attend the Gathering when summoned, Puck’s actions demonstrated a complete betrayal of their lord and ruler. He proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oberon no longer commanded him, his obedience, his devotion, or his fealty. His loyalty now belonged firmly to a human by the name of David Xanatos.

The child should have been brought back to Avalon and Puck’s life should have been forfeit. That was Oberon’s right as ruler. It is what Mab would have done and worse in those distant days before her son overthrew her.

But a deal was struck instead. Alexander would be raised by his parents and tutored in magic while in the outside world. And while Puck would teach and protect the child, he would be thoroughly punished for his betrayal. He had chosen the humans and the existence that he’d forged there while adopting a human identity over obedience and his home in Avalon? Then outside his lessons and protecting the child, Puck would be completely stripped of his magic and bound in that mortal shape. And he was eternally banished from Avalon. The trickster would never set foot in his true home again. And Puck was lucky that his punishment was not far worse.

Oberon might be more reasonable than Mab had ever been, but he was still proud and not one to forget past insult. And how could Puck’s actions be viewed as anything other than the greatest of all insults? His betrayal ensured that any leniency due to Oberon’s favoritism was gone. Anything that happened to him now was none of Oberon’s concern.

Which was why Raven was contemplating the possibilities of the situation a short time later. It wasn’t as if there was anything else to occupy his thoughts at the Gathering. Oh, there were games, skirmishes, flirtations, and other such activities, but none that currently interested him. And no one knew what to make of the new gargoyle clan serving as an honor guard that Oberon appointed, which meant that no one wanted to risk bothering them yet. That left only talking about recent events and scheming. Raven was bored and a bored trickster was a dangerous thing. It tended to lead to _ideas_.

With Puck no longer a loyal servant, that left space for a new trickster to earn Oberon’s favor. And if he didn’t want someone like Coyote or Anansi claiming it, Raven would need to offer something impressive to catch their lord’s attention. Something certainly more impressive than a history of centuries of territory disputes with Grandmother that she always won. His continued losses to his cousin did not paint him in the best light. But Raven was a trickster. And tricksters were good at being creative and identifying loopholes.

An ideal way to court Oberon’s favor would be to provide him with something that he desired but could not or would not obtain for himself. A rather limited list considering his power.

But Titania, and thus Oberon, wanted Alexander Xanatos. They wanted the halfling child to be raised within his heritage since denying the boy his magic and letting it atrophy away was cruel. Limiting him to a mere mortal existence was as heartless and cruel as cutting off his limbs to ensure that he could never learn to move on his own. Oberon wanted the child, but the bargain had set the matter aside. But if the bargain could not be upheld by the humans, he would have no qualms claiming the child then. It would be the mortals’ fault for failing to keep their side of the agreement. All Raven had to do was disrupt things just enough to give Oberon an excuse to end the deal and he would earn his lord’s gratitude.

The bargain was simple. In exchange for leaving Alexander Xanatos with his parents and among the mortals, the child must be taught and protected by Puck. Which means that if it could be proven that those conditions could not be met, then Oberon would have no choice except to ensure the boy’s safety and education by bringing him home to Avalon. It wouldn’t be Oberon’s fault if they failed to keep their part of the generous bargain. The humans would have no one except themselves to blame.

Of course, the ideal way to achieve that goal would involve removing Puck as a variable. Without the trickster, they wouldn’t be able to fulfill their part of the bargain. There would be no one else to teach the child non-mortal magic since his halfling mother’s abilities had atrophied over a lifetime into a faint shadow of power. Barely useable except in the direst of straits.

And while Oberon commanded long ago that they could not interfere directly in the affairs of mortals, Puck was _not_ one. He played the part of one in the past and now he was trapped in that form when not aiding Alexander, but that did not change his true nature and origins. He wasn’t truly mortal and wasn’t protected by that command. But he was just as powerless and vulnerable as any human as long as Alexander wasn’t in need of a lesson or protection.

And with Oberon’s lingering rage over Puck’s behavior, Raven seriously doubted that he would complain or worry about the trickster. Oberon would almost certainly look the other way when it came to Puck’s fate and might even be pleased if the trickster suffered further punishment. Just because he merely stripped him of power and banished him did not mean that Oberon would prevent further suffering.

Puck chose the human world over their home of Avalon. He chose loyalty, obedience, and fealty towards a mere human rather than their lord and liege. He would have to face the consequences of those decisions.

Raven waited until a brief lull in proceedings, watching their lord’s expression carefully to judge his mood and temperament. He waited until the perfect opportunity arose where Oberon seemed in good spirits and there was few lingering around to eavesdrop. Then he approached the throne and knelt before Oberon.

Unlike Puck, he still recognized their ruler and gave him the respect that was his right. Tiana was the only one that her husband allowed to come and go at her discretion. He could not and would not try to leave the Gathering without his lord’s expression permission. And while Avalon responded to Oberon’s Children and their will, there was still the risk that the isle’s magic would send him where it believed he was needed rather than where he desired. An annoying waste of time that he would prefer to avoid. Oberon’s Mirror could be used to send him to the mortal city where Alexander Xanatos, his family, and the powerless Puck dwelt.

While both Puck and Raven were tricksters, he liked to think that he was the smarter of the two. Despite his continuous defeats from a long line of humans armed with mortal magic and Grandmother’s assistance, Raven was at least clever enough not to risk angering Oberon. It was why _he_ wasn’t the one currently banished. Oberon may allow his wife to come and go at her discretion, but anyone else who might wish to leave the Gathering early could not. Not unless their lord and liege allowed them that priviledge.

Raven waited until a brief lull in the proceedings. Then he approached the throne and knelt before Oberon. While Raven’s chosen form was similar enough to a dark-haired human that most mortals would not look twice at him as long as they missed his ears, Oberon’s appearance made his true nature obvious. He was a tall figure dressed in shiny red and gold garb of an aristocratic warrior and a pale cape. His hair was white, his complexion a light blue shade, and his ears pointed, ensuring that any human would describe him as elvish. His entire bearing was haughty and proud. No one could ignore or deny his commanding presence. Everything about him demonstrated that he was a true ruler.

“Speak, Raven,” commanded Oberon, acknowledging his presence.

Still kneeling and adopting his most respectful tone, he said, “My Lord, I most humbly ask if you could indulge me for a moment. I know that your time is valuable, but I have a small request. I wish to offer you a gift worthy of our ruler and his queen. One to mark the occasion of our return to Avalon and the Gathering itself. But I cannot offer this gift without a brief return to the outside world. I would ask for a boon. Please allow me the use of your mirror to reach the city of Manhattan. Give me the length of a day in Avalon to achieve my goal and then I will return.”

“And what gift do you plan to retrieve?” he asked.

“Not a physical gift, my lord. Merely an opportunity. The opportunity to claim Alexander Xanatos without going back on your word and the opportunity to punish Puck further for turning against you.”

A flash of anger crossed his face at the mention of the absent trickster, revealing the true extent of the fury and rage still burning below the surface. The insult remained too fresh and raw. Months may have passed for the mortals, but it had been mere days in Avalon since the confrontation. Oberon had not forgiven Puck. And all that anger over damaged pride and betrayal remained strong. Where the Banshee had merely resisted, Puck had rebelled and turned against his liege. That type of betrayal was not tolerated. If the trickster hadn’t been useful to guard and teach the child, Oberon would have undoubtedly struck him down before the night was over.

And now Raven was offering a second chance to claim the boy and to make the traitor suffer.

“I will listen to your request, Raven. Explain your intentions and I will decide if I shall grant you permission to leave,” he said finally. “Though remember to tread lightly. And if you should use this as an excuse not to return, you shall come to regret your foolishness. Ask the Banshee if you doubt me.”

“I would never doubt you, my lord. My plan is for _your_ benefit, not my own gratification.”

After a moment of watching the trickster carefully, Oberon gave a slow nod to indicate that he should continue. Raven took the opportunity to finally stand back upright. And then he carefully outlined his general plan.

* * *

The Eyrie Building was currently the world’s tallest building, towering over the New York skyline to the point that on regular occasions, the clouds were actually below the highest part of the structure. Which was intentional on the part of owner.

The building was unique in many ways, though the lower levels were closer to normal for an office building. It served as the base of operations for Xanatos Enterprises and corporate headquarters, the lower two-thirds of the building filled with offices, a few research labs, a daycare, a cafeteria for employees, and a gymnasium available to the upper management should they schedule a session. There was even a helipad installed partway up the structure for proper storage and maintenance of the private helicopters, tucked just under the atrium.

The atrium, surrounded by glass windows and containing lush foliage, an artificial waterfall and stream with a bridge over it, and even an Olympic-sized pool, served as a decent marker that divided the business portion of the Eyrie Building from the personal. The upper third of the structure could best be described as the rather eccentric penthouse for David Xanatos himself and his household.

And yes, the media had described him as eccentric when his initial plans for the Eyrie Building came to light. People as rich as him were never called crazy by news reports.

On top of the atrium rested an ancient structure that he’d purchased and carefully relocated from Scotland. Every stone carried across an ocean and rebuilt on top of a skyscraper in New York City. Castle Wyvern was restored to its former glory where it had once been allowed to age and crumble through the centuries. Xanatos Enterprises ended up with several master stone masons kept on retainer solely for their expertise in repairing and maintaining castle. Every step of the process was costly and time-consuming, especially when it come to updating the ancient structure with his more modern requirements like his defensive measures, but Xanatos refused let that stop him. And in the end, he got what he wanted. By placing it on top of the Eyrie Building, Castle Wyvern rose above the clouds.

And curse broke after a thousand years.

Of course, after breaking the curse and reawakening the diminished clan of gargoyles who once guarded Castle Wyvern, his plans went a little astray. Not enough that he couldn’t salvage some form of success. He could always win something. But the last few years did not go as he initially envisioned them. Things had not gone according to his plan. And yet, Xanatos would call it a victory regardless.

In addition to adding running water, electricity, and a very powerful cooling and heating system to a stone structure that had never been designed for such things, many of the chambers of the castle had been renovated into new purposes during the reconstruction. The large library with two levels, for example. There had been no need for so many books back then. The Great Hall where once royalty had entertained had become a foyer, the elevator serving as the main access to the rest of the building and limiting the number of people who could reach his home. The kitchen, the bathrooms, the personal offices for both himself and Owen, a personal gym, and TV room were all filled modern additions. The tower held a laboratory to contain Xanatos’s more secretive projects. The fully functional infirmary was stocked and prepared for emergencies when he wished to keep the police and emergency personnel uninvolved. And several bedrooms were renovated until they were comfortable for more the twenty-first century. That included a master bedroom for himself, one for Owen because it was certainly more convenient even in the early days to keep him close, and another for Fox that she still maintained for some evenings even after their marriage. Because strong-willed and independent people sometimes needed their personal space.

But it was the fourth of the spacious bedrooms where Xanatos stood now, quietly watching the scene unfold in front of him. Fox, his beautiful red-haired wife with the blue tattoo over her eye that she only got _partially_ as an act of rebellion against her father, sitting on the floor of the nursery while encouraging their light-haired son, who apparently inherited all the recessive genes from his parents, into trying to stack his blocks into a towering building of his own. Not quite as impressive as the Eyrie Building, but certainly not bad for someone not quite six months old yet. Most people would call the scene domestic and ordinary, though Bronx crouched behind Alex and occasionally nudging and licking the baby to make him giggle might give some pause.

Gargoyle beasts, from Xanatos’s understanding, were a separate species that shared a common ancestor with gargoyles. Rather like the relationship between humans and chimpanzees. Except humanity hadn’t domesticated chimps to serve as companions and guards. In that way, it was more similar to the relationship between humans and dogs, but they were far smarter and much more dangerous if provoked. But despite his size and his strength in battle, Bronx seemed content to serve as a general “watchdog” while Alex played and was surprisingly gentle with him. And in return, Alex adored the “doggie.” So Xanatos had no qualms with Bronx wanting to be around his son.

Xanatos would not call himself a greedy man, but he had a tendency to seek out and acquire things that he considered valuable. Money. Power. Technology. Magical artifacts. Alliances with useful individuals and groups. And he made use of those various assets in search of what he’d always considered the most valuable thing that a man could possess: immortality.

Oh yes, he’d explored a variety of possible paths towards immortality. Different spells and magical objects. Promising technologies. Even attempting to capture and bend a member of the Third Race to his needs. None thus far had granted him the prized that he sought.

But Xanatos had rearranged his priorities after recent events. When he nearly lost Fox to the Eye of Odin that he gave her. When he nearly lost Alex when Oberon and Titania tried to kidnap him within hours of his birth. These near tragedies had forced him to acknowledge that there were some things that he couldn’t bear to lose. Xanatos was still working on accepting that love wasn’t a weakness. A possible vulnerability at times, but not a sign of weakness. And he’d realized that the people he was currently watching in the nursery were the most valuable things that he would ever acquire. The people that he cared about were irreplaceable and far more precious than the tantalizing prize of immortality.

Not that he’d given up completely on immortality. But after rearranging his priorities, he’d taken a step back. He thought more carefully about some of Hudson’s words about legacy and reconsidered the situation concerning the immortal Demona and Macbeth. It was enough to make Xanatos more cautious about what form of immortality that he would want. He certainly wouldn’t want a type that he could not share with his family, but he had also admitted to himself that it might be best to have something that he could control. And perhaps even end on his own terms if it became necessary. That would be better than ending up in the same miserable holding pattern as Demona and Macbeth.

Until then, he had his family. Another man might call them a far greater treasure, though Xanatos was not one for such poetic and sentimental remarks. And he was wise enough to know that he should not squander his time in the pursuit to the point that he forgot about those he cared about. He had his family and he had a few ways to at least delay death during his search.

He had options. Not quite immortality, but he had access to close substitutes that would allow him to avoid death for a while. His investments in the technologies required for cybernetics. A vial of Unspoken Water, obtained with great difficulty. The rejuvenation drugs that the Illuminati provided for its older members that Xanatos intended to gain possession of very soon.

Xanatos shook his head slowly. The Illuminati were a powerful and influential group with useful resources and knowledge, but he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that their goals truly aligned with his own despite what they might say. They did not last as many centuries as they had without learning to manipulate the truth. He currently found them useful the same way that he recognized the benefits of a truce with Goliath’s clan, but the Illuminati did not share the gargoyles’ more trustworthy and straightforward approach towards interactions. They were dangerous, deceitful, and relatively complicated to manipulate, which meant that Xanatos had to use similar methods when dealing with them.

It was best not to offer them anything of actual value that could be used against him. Which was at least one of the reasons why he intended to give them a replica version of the Stone of Destiny before he realized the pointlessness of the acquisition, allowing him to appear as a loyal member without actually providing anything of true use to them. And why he had plans to research how to replicate their rejuvenation drugs, whether through science or through magic. Xanatos knew that his membership within the Illuminati had a finite lifespan.

As his father once put it, he did not always work or play well with others.

Watching the woman that he loved handing their son another block for their building, Xanatos stepped away from where he was leaning against the doorframe with the intention of joining them. But the heavy sound of familiar footsteps made him pause. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed a tall, broad, and powerful inhuman figure. One with talons capable of tearing through steel and large enough to loom over most humans, his wings tucked close around him like a cape to keep them out of the way in the narrower corridors. From his forehead crests that nearly blended into this black hair to his powerful prehensile tail, the being was a skilled warrior and a worthy opponent in every way.

“Hello, Goliath,” he greeted with a nod. “I guess none of you wanted to go out in this weather. I already saw Brooklyn watching television earlier and both Broadway and Angela were in the library last time I check.”

Nodding in return, he said, “The cold may not affect gargoyles as strongly as it does humans, but that doesn’t make it any easier to remain airborne in heavy sleet. It was not worth the risks to go out tonight.”

Specifically, since the Quarrymen still causing issues, it was best not to tempt fate when their ability to maneuver in the air was compromised. Not that anyone other than the most devout members of the group would want to go out hunting in the miserable cold sleet either. But the most devout Quarrymen tended to also be the most dangerous and vicious.

“At least the weather is supposed to be clear tomorrow night. Not much hope for a proper white Christmas I suppose, but it should make it easier to go out if you want to visit the detective. She managed to be off duty for the holidays, correct? You two should be able to spend Christmas Eve together at her apartment if you like. Unless you plan to join us instead?”

Since none of the gargoyles had questioned it when a professionally Christmas tree appeared in the foyer, the only part of the castle itself that staff were generally allowed in and only during daylight hours, Xanatos suspected that Elisa had already explained the current holiday traditions to them at least somewhat in the last few years. The only comments that he’d heard about it was when Broadway noticed the lack of homemade and childish ornaments and the rainbow-colored flashing lights like those the detective used on her own tree.

“Elisa has suggested that we watch ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ together,” he said politely. “She told me that it was a favorite from when she was young and her family had a tradition of watching it on Christmas Eve when she was growing up. The last couple of years, Elisa was on-duty or I suspect that she would have shared this tradition sooner.”

It was amazing sometimes to reflect on how much things had changed in the last few months. They would never be entirely friendly with one another. Even if Xanatos rarely took any of their confrontations personally and certainly not enough to succumb to the self-destructive path of revenge, there was too much history to completely ignore. And some of his actions would never be forgiven. For example, his decision to have Dr. Anton Sevarius use Derek Maza as one of the early subjects, turning him into the mutate Talon, was something that Elisa especially would always hold against him. Understandable. Family always made it personal. But since they’d helped save Alex and then Xanatos welcomed them back to their ancestral home after the destruction of the clocktower, they’d settled into a truce. Not complete trust, but enough to avoid deliberately antagonizing each other further and to be civil.

There was peace within the stone walls for now. Peace and a certain amount of civility. That was enough. It was something that they could live with. Though sometimes it meant they ended up with the occasional small talk rather than risk more uncomfortable and sensitive topics.

“Fox is taking Alex to see her father tomorrow morning,” said Xanatos quietly, turning back to watch them again. Bronx had moved from his position to start sniffing around the room. “They’ll be back that evening, but they’ll be spending most of the day with Halcyon. The holiday is at least partially an excuse to be around family and other loved ones, so he wanted to spend at least part of Alex’s first Christmas with him. Halcyon isn’t likely to survive to see his second.”

“And you won’t be joining them?”

“That’s my Christmas gift to him. Even after everything, I’ll never be his favorite person and my presence will undoubtedly cause problems. It wouldn’t be fair to put a damper on the festivities when it is easier to let him visit with his daughter and grandchild in peace. Besides, I’ll get to spend the actual eve with them and all of Christmas morning. And Owen and I can use the time tomorrow to wrap up a few final deals and arrangements to ensure that nothing interrupts our family time later.”

Goliath gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Which was certainly better than a growl or a shout. He was clearly in a good mood that evening despite falling into a prolonged conversation with Xanatos. One good thing about dealing with him. You could always tell when Goliath was upset. He was not a subtle gargoyle when it came to his emotions.

“And how has Alex been?” asked Goliath.

Xanatos didn’t even bother to try hiding his proud parental smile. Nor did he ignore the mild feeling of satisfaction. All the gargoyles at different points had shown interest in his son, keeping an eye on him or occasionally playing in the same way that Bronx did. While Xanatos’s knowledge of gargoyle culture was incomplete, he knew that the entire clan tended to communally raise their young rather than giving the individual parents responsibility. Part of that culture clash could still be seen with Angela, who was raised by humans instead. Xanatos had witnessed it a few times, though those misunderstandings were improving. And he was hoping that their interest in Alex could be a sign that they were gradually considering him as part of their clan.

Xanatos wasn’t part of the Clan. He never would be. He wasn’t that naïve nor did he desire that role. He could count on one hand the number of people that he truly loved and cared for. He wasn’t part of their clan, but at least this particular one was at least open to the idea of adopting humans into the Clan. Elisa Maza had been considered part of their clan for probably longer than any of them realized. And the Clan protected each other.

Gargoyles were a naturally protective and territorial species in many ways. They would protect their home and they would protect their clan until their last breath. Goliath and the others would protect Castle Wyvern, and thus the Eyrie Building, from anyone who directly attacked it. And even if they wouldn’t defend Xanatos and might even throw him to his enemies someday if he should ever push them too far, he wanted them to consider at least Alex as part of their clan and protect him with that same ferocity.

It wasn’t the only reason why he invited the gargoyles to return to the castle. He honestly did want to pay them back for saving his son and at least form a truce with them. But Xanatos rarely did anything for one reason when he could enjoy multiple benefits from the same actions. He wanted to give his son every form of protection that he could. Xanatos had upgraded the energy cannons on the turrets and kept his Steel and Iron Clans in reserve. Owen could provide magic protection as Puck if Alex was in danger. But he still hoped to include the gargoyles as another line of defense.

“Alex has added a few more words to his vocabulary. ‘No’ may soon replace ‘doggie’ as his favorite,” he said. “He’s definitely chatty for his age.”

Too chatty. At six months, he shouldn’t be using actual words yet. Only normal baby babbling. And he was growing a little too fast. Alex wasn’t quite the size of a one-year-old, but he was certainly larger than most infants his age. At least the fact that he hadn’t mastered crawling yet meant that not _everything_ was accelerated.

But none of them were overly concerned. He was at least a quarter of a different species. There were bound to be a few oddities with his development. And when Xanatos last spoke with Puck on the topic during one of Alex’s magic lessons, he seemed confident that the accelerated development would settle down soon and Alex would grow at a closer to normal rate.

“He’s also sleeping longer,” he continued, “which is something that Fox and I are both grateful for. But I do think that he misses Lexington. He’s been getting fussy at nightfall if we don’t distract him.”

“He and Hudson should be back soon enough. I should have known their visit to London would last longer than expected, but I cannot begrudge them a chance to see other gargoyles.”

“I don’t blame them. But if they bring back any new friends, please give me some warning. Between Thailog and Demon, there are enough dangerous winged visitors out there that I’m fairly cautious when someone shows up unexpected. I wouldn’t want to shoot them out of the sky on accident and add a few new enemies to the list.”

Xanatos spared a glance towards the gargoyle and noticed that Goliath was staring at Alex intently, though there was a bit of a distant look in his eyes. As looking at something beyond the boy. The thoughtful expression of concentration on his face piqued Xanatos’s interest. Especially when the look was directed in his son’s direction.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

Goliath startled slightly before looking away. Xanatos wasn’t that surprised. Even with their current truce helping to improve relations, they weren’t anywhere close to being each other’s confidante. If the gargoyle was going to share his inner thoughts and concerns, it would either be with Hudson or the detective. And Elisa was far more likely in many cases.

At least Goliath wouldn’t have to wait too long to discuss whatever was on his mind. Even on the nights that she worked, the detective would usually try to see him and the others at least briefly after sunset or before dawn. She put in the effort to make their unique relationship work.

Xanatos had long since informed the night shifts for the front desk that she was allowed the use of the locked private elevator, the most direct method to reach the top floor. Which was normally off-limits to anyone outside his family or Owen without requesting permission for each visit. But in his mind, requiring that from her would simply waste a lot of time. Elisa had an ongoing open invitation since she was in relationship with one of the castle’s inhabitants and Xanatos knew better than to stand in the way. She made use of that privilege regularly. And between her regular visits in the evening or at night, her unprecedented amount of freedom and access to his private home, and the fact that she didn’t always come back down the elevator since Goliath would often fly her home himself and thus no one saw her leave, Xanatos knew that a portion of his staff believed that he was having an affair with her.

Fox found those rumors hilarious.

Then, proving that it was still possible to surprise the man, Goliath said in a quiet rumble, “Elisa… It was something that she said a short while ago…”

“About what?”

Goliath didn’t look completely comfortable with the conversation. He refused to look at Xanatos and there was an occasional twitch of his tail. He kept his eyes locked towards Alex as the block building tumbled to the ground, causing the boy to squeal and giggle at the mess.

Xanatos strongly considered making a comment about his distracted state or the irony of the gargoyle confiding in him of all people, but he knew that would end the conversation. And he was curious. Owen had mentioned that there seemed to be some form of tension early in the evening on Halloween, before Thaliog’s interruption, though they’d apparently moved past it. But if there was a connection, he would certainly like to know what happened. The information could be useful in the future.

“She mentioned what she wants in the future. Things that she cannot have with me,” he said slowly. “She mentioned a family. Someday… children.”

“I see,” said Xanatos, unable to immediately think of anything better without some actual consideration.

After enough reports from Dr. Anton Sevarius, Xanatos knew enough about the fundamental differences between gargoyles and humans on a genetic scale that he was aware that biological children weren’t an option for Goliath and Elisa. Not without some serious intervention by science or magic. And while Goliath might be satisfied with his daughter and raising any future eggs that the Clan might have someday now that Angela had joined, Elisa had the human desire for her own form of parenthood.

Culture clash and different expectations regarding their relationship meeting together to reveal goals that felt impossible to achieve. No wonder Goliath had relented to talk to him. He didn’t have many options for this particular topic. Who else did he know with human relationships and children? Xanatos might literally be the only person that he could talk to who might come close to understanding.

“I suppose the first question is if you want children as well,” he continued carefully. “Other than Angela, I mean.”

“Any eggs that the Clan might have would be raised together with the entire Clan as their parents. That is the gargoyle way. Just as all gargoyles who were raised on Avalon are our children,” said Goliath slowly. “But that is not the human way and Elisa should not give up everything that she wants.”

While he could point out that the detective would be willing to help raise any future children of the Clan and that she probably wouldn’t mind essentially being Angela’s stepmother, Goliath was right. She was giving up a lot of things that she could have with a human relationship. He understood why Goliath wouldn’t want her to give up even more.

Nodding thoughtfully, Xanatos said, “Then there are options. None of them easy, but possible and something to keep in the mind in the future if it is something that you two want to pursue. Adoption, for example. Since we generally don’t raise our children as a community, sometimes that means that there are kids who end up without parents for one reason or another. There are always children in need of loving families.”

“If that is true, then why would you claim it would not be easy?”

“There are laws and restrictions in place regarding who is allowed to adopt. Supposedly to protect the children and ensure that they end up only with people who would be good parents and can properly take care of them. But like any system, it isn’t perfect and most of their rules wouldn’t label her as an ideal candidate. A single woman with no previous children to demonstrate that she has experience with them and who works a dangerous job such as a detective? It would make them worry. They might not think that she could provide a stable home environment alone.”

“She would not be alone,” said Goliath with a quiet growl.

Holding up a placating hand, Xanatos said, “I know she wouldn’t be alone. But most people wouldn’t realize that. They wouldn’t know about her relationship with you. It isn’t safe yet to tell people. You know that.”

“And in the future?”

“Even when humans learn to stop attacking out of fear and at least tolerate your kind, it will still take time for them to accept your relationship.” He gave Goliath a regretful and sympathetic smile. “It isn’t exactly fair, but while individuals can change quickly, humanity in general tends to be reluctant to adapt. People can’t even accept the idea of a relationship between two humans of the same gender, let alone one between two different species. As difficult as it would be for the detective to adopt on her own, at least there is a chance. Interspecies adoption is going to take a very long time before it is legal.”

Xanatos glanced back towards the rest of the room, watching Fox scoop up their giggling son. He and the detective might never see eye to eye and she would never trust him fully, but she shouldn’t be denied parenthood merely because of who she loved. And it certainly never hurt to earn a little good will with her in case he had need of it. That could be useful since it was clear that they would be around one another regularly for the foreseeable future. Not to mention that it would provide a possible playmate for Alex someday who would already know about magic, gargoyles, and his son’s heritage. A safe playmate who would also provide further incentive for the Clan to keep Alex protected. And on a more mundane note, whose parents wouldn’t attempt corporate espionage.

Never do anything for only one reason when it can be done for several.

“If you and the detective ever decide to go that route,” he said finally, “let me know. Adoption may be technically run by laws and regulations, but a few good lawyers and connections might help ease the way.”

Raising an eyebrow ridge slightly, Goliath asked, “Are you offering to assist us? With an adoption?”

“If that’s what the two of you decide on. Of course, my backup plan would involve tracking down Dr. Sevarius to see if you could provide a clone without the accelerated growth, but I doubt that either of you would trust that option. Detective Maza would probably shoot me if I suggested it and I would rather avoid that.”

Any further conversation was interrupted by a sharp growl. Xanatos glanced up to see Bronx at the window. He growled for a little longer until he seemed satisfied that whatever caught his attention outside in the sleet-filled night was neither a threat nor real. Then he padded over to Fox and looked up expectantly at Alex in her arms, as if waiting for the child’s praise.

“Doggie,” squealed Alex excitedly, small hands reaching even as he twisted in his mother’s grip.

Smiling, Fox said, “When he finally sees what a real dog looks like, he’s going to be so confused.” Then she stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to her husband’s cheek. “But that conversation will have to wait. Someone needs to have his bath and get ready for bed. Not all of us can be completely nocturnal and growing boys need their sleep. Unlike some people around here.”

Xanatos couldn’t help smirking. She wasn’t wrong. Between their various nighttime activities and running multiple companies during the day, he’d been forced to adopt a rather unusual sleeping pattern. Fox sometimes complained that it eliminated lazy mornings lounging in bed together, but they were both flexible and adaptive.

“If you’re doing bath time, I can put him down afterwards and give you a break,” he said. “You’ll be busy tomorrow with your visit. Take some time for yourself.”

“I might take you up on that offer. A short session in the gym to keep limber, a nice soak in the tub, and then retiring to our bedroom for the night would be lovely.” She headed down the hall, her long hair swinging back and forth behind her. Calling over her shoulder, Fox said, “Feel free to join me at any point in the scheduled events after you put Alex down.”

“And I suppose I shall head to the library and continue working through that story by Mary Shelley. It is interesting so far, though at times it feels too familiar in rather unpleasant ways,” said Goliath.

Giving a dismissive wave, Xanatos said, “Have a good evening then. Hopefully Broadway and Angela won’t mind the interruption.”

The gargoyle gave a parting nod before stalking away to the rest of the castle, leaving Xanatos to return to his office alone. With Alex taking a bath, he should have enough time to finish up a few things before putting his son to bed. He might as well put his time to good use.

As he pulled the computer up, someone else joined him in the office. The blond-haired, blue-eyed man in glasses and a nice suit was the type of person who always seemed to blend into the background. For the most part, he would fade from notice unless he gave some reason to for those around him to pay attention. The only reason that they might look twice at him would be due to his left hand, frozen permanently in the form of a stone fist. Generally, it was assumed to be a unique and eccentric prosthetic rather than the effect of magic. The usual impression of the man was that he seemed incredibly efficient, loyal, and obedient, but was mostly emotionless and boring.

Most people were idiots. Owen’s facial expressions tended to be subtler than most, but he had a decent sense of humor that even his serious demeanor could not disguise and was nowhere close to boring.

“I thought you’d finished for the evening, Mr. Xanatos,” said Owen, straightening his glasses. “Burning the midnight oil?”

“Not quite. I thought I would get a head start on the projects for tomorrow,” he said. “I would rather enjoy Christmas with my family without the possibility of distractions.”

“There will be no distractions tomorrow evening or the morning after,” assured Owen, his tone making it obvious that no other outcome would be tolerated under his watch. “We’ll finish anything that can’t wait until after the holidays first thing tomorrow, but very little of it is immediately pressing. Certainly nothing that could develop into an emergency that would demand your attention at an inopportune time.”

“As if you would allow anything to reach that state,” he said, earning a slight quirk at the corner of Owen’s mouth in the form of a subtle smile. “And you should take Christmas off as well. You’ve certainly earned it.”

More than earned it. He deserved far more than any man could ever repay and Xanatos knew it.

Owen had been by his side for over five years since Xanatos proved himself to be more interesting than Halcyon. Interesting enough for Owen to reveal his true nature to the man and offer a choice: a single request from Puck or a lifetime of service from Owen. Xanatos knew the worth of a loyal and competent assistant that he could rely on. No magical favor from a trickster could ever compare to that.

It took years for him to actually realize and acknowledge that the decision that he made wasn’t solely a logical one chosen because it provided the most benefits to him in the long run. It took years for him to understand that emotion was involved. After all, Puck would have left after the favor. Owen stayed.

For several years, Owen was one of the few people that he could truly depend on and trust. He was the one person privy to Xanatos’s various plans and allowed to know his true motivations. Not even Fox knew everything that Owen did, though he did share more with her now than he once did.

And maybe part of Owen’s loyal service could be considered to be part of the contract, but not everything that he’d done could be traced back to that. The deal meant that Xanatos could only depend on the knowledge, skillsets, and abilities that the human Owen Burnett would possess rather than the full capabilities of Puck. They were the same person, but Owen was the one that he’d chosen. It was why his hand remained stone when he tested the Cauldron of Life; Puck could undo the magic that transformed his limb, but an ordinary human could not. It was the same reason why he could not reveal to Xanatos anything that Oberon’s Children might know about granting a human immortality. The terms of the deal were crystal clear. But Owen started bending the terms the moment that he warned not to leave the newborn Alex alone with Anastasia, a warning that only Puck would know to make.

The warning and using Puck’s knowledge of Titania’s human identity to prepare necessary defenses, because an ordinary human would not know that Xanatos would soon need the Iron Clan and the energy force field around the building. Trying to remain with Xanatos despite being summoned to the Gathering, only putting some distance when an impossible conflict was on the horizon. Coming back and fighting against Oberon even knowing that he couldn’t win, but still trying to help Xanatos protect his son. None of that was demanded by the contract. Owen— _Puck_ chose him and the life that he’d made since adopting the identity of Owen.

And he’d paid a steep price. Banishment from Avalon and stripped of his powers, bound only to a single mortal form. For eternity. He’d chosen to be Owen and remain alongside Xanatos. And outside of protecting and teaching Alex, that was all that he would ever have. He sacrificed almost everything that night and Xanatos would never be able to repay him. That night had indebted Xanatos to several people, but Owen had faced the highest cost.

A better man might feel worse than he did. It wasn’t that he was unaffected. Xanatos was no prouder of what happened to Owen than he was over what the Eye of Odin did to Fox. Both could have cost him important people if events had gone differently. Neither had gone as Xanatos had wanted, but he would take what victory that he could. Just as Fox survived the magical object, his son remained with his family and Owen wasn’t gone. Xanatos could count the number of people that he truly cared about on one hand and he didn’t lose any of them. And he refused to feel guilty over his sense of relief.

Undoing what Oberon did to bind his powers and trap him permanently in the form of Owen, however, was now a goal that Xanatos had added to his list. Though it was one that he was keeping to himself for now. Just until he had some promising leads. In the meantime, the best that he could do was encourage Owen to occasionally take time for himself.

“I suppose I could find something to occupy my time tomorrow night,” said Owen dryly. “Perhaps go over our defense systems to ensure the building is protected against attacks from flying reindeer?”

Smiling as he leaned back in his office chair and steepling his fingers, Xanatos said, “Considering that we have gargoyles sharing our home, my mother-in-law is Titania, and we have collected multiple magical artifacts over the years, an actual visit from Santa Clause is within the realm of possibility. Unless _you_ plan to officially deny his existence?”

“I’m afraid that I can’t comment on the matter,” he said as he straightened his glasses again, the faintest hint of smirk leaving the true status of the legendary figure questionable.

“If you don’t have any other plans in mind for the holiday, you’re welcome to join us,” he said.

Someone who didn’t know Owen as well as Xanatos had might have missed the surprised reaction. The way that his perfect posture straightened a little more and his eyes widened just a little. Of course, most people would miss it because they wouldn’t be properly looking. No one ever paid close enough attention to Owen except as an extension of his employer’s will. It was useful when it meant that Owen could gleam information from others that they wished to hide. But it also meant few people bothered to learn how to read Owen the way that Xanatos could. And it was obvious to him that he truly didn’t expect the invitation.

Before Fox moved into the Eyrie Building, Xanatos barely bothered with celebrating the holidays outside the required lavish parties that he was expected to either throw or attend due to his position. Even this year he should be attending at least one or two Christmas parties in order to make some useful connections and perhaps a couple of deals. But this would be Alex’s first Christmas. And even if neither he nor Fox were particularly religious, it felt important to spend it with their small family. Almost as if the holiday served as a form of proof that despite everything that tried to tear everything apart, they were together and whole.

“You know Alex adores you,” he continued, keeping his tone light and unconcerned. “I’m sure he would enjoy your presence.”

“Or at least the opportunity to try chewing on my hand,” said Owen, having reined back in his early surprise. “Apparently he finds it good for teething.”

Xanatos couldn’t help laughing a little. Giving up even the pretense of working that evening, he stood up from his desk and walked around. He briefly rested his hand on Owen’s shoulder.

“But it would mean a lot to us if you would care to join us. It would be good to spend it with the entire family. And you should realize by now that includes you.”

That time, the look of surprise was obvious enough that anyone would have recognized it and not just Xanatos. But he didn’t look completely displeased by the sentiment.

* * *

Pat Doyle was practically born to be a politician. He knew how to work a crowd, coaxing their trust and approval from the people. He knew how to capitalize on current issues, using them to feed into his fears of his voters while reassuring them that he was looking out for them. And above all else, he knew how to look out for himself. He knew how to devise underhanded schemes that ensured him victory without ever needing to dirty his own hands. Doyle intended to ride the wave of fear, paranoia, and mistrust birthed by the discovering of real live gargoyles lurking in their city. He intended to ride that wave all the way through a mayoral campaign towards victory.

It wouldn’t even be that hard. The people wanted to feel safe. And if he promised them that he would take care of the scary monsters lurking in the darkness, if he promised that he would use the office to deal with them permanently when the so-called Gargoyle Taskforce was failing to accomplish anything of note, the people would flock around him. He was already getting support from an anti-gargoyle group called the Quarrymen. Doyle didn’t know much about it, but he figured it was like any of those concerned citizens groups like Moms Against Drunk Drivers or something. When the time came, he was certain that he would have their endorsement and could slap their group on the political commercials.

Of course, the mayoral elections wouldn’t be until next November. Almost a year. That gave him time to build up some momentum. To win over the people’s hearts and minds. And possibly engage in some minor bribery and blackmailing of his future competition. Cut down anyone else in his political party until he was the only one left standing and then take out the opposition. Doyle knew how the game worked. There was no such thing as a truly clean campaign.

But in order to get a good and solid start, he needed something big. Something to serve as a solid foundation for his campaign. Capturing or killing a gargoyle would certainly play well to his target audience. Especially if he can arrange it before anyone else got their hands on one. And Doyle had connections and money. He could hire some people who should be capable of pulling it off. The problem was finding the creatures. At night, they were mobile and difficult to track down. And no one knew for certain where they spent their days.

Well, there were rumors. The types of rumors that were reported in “The Tattler” that no one actually believed. They reminded him more of the urban legends about alligators in the sewers rather than anything plausible. But the first stories about large winged monsters in New York City started up a little over a couple years ago. Not that long after David Xanatos finished building his tall and rather eccentric building with a literal stone castle on top. And weren’t castles supposed to always have creepy gargoyle statues on them?

Regardless of the rumors, no one could prove anything. And some of Doyle’s law enforcement connections confirmed that a couple of the Gargoyle Taskforce members had already paid Xanatos a visit and come back with nothing. Besides, even if the gargoyles lurked up there, Doyle knew better than to try and capture one from Xanatos’s property. Even if his criminal record seemed rather tame, he was not a man that you wanted to make your enemy.

And that was the quandary. Doyle needed a gargoyle, alive or dead, in order to build his entire political career. His entire campaign was centered on the issue of the gargoyle threat to New York City. Without one, he was all talk and no action. And that wouldn’t poll well with his voters. But he didn’t know how to find and capture one. No one did. And the only lead that he _might_ have ran the risk of ending up on Xanatos’s bad side.

He just couldn’t see how he was going to pull it off. Doyle would be better off looking for a magic lamp to _wish_ to be mayor.

His confidence waning despite his best efforts to boost it, Doyle gave a half-hearted wave to his secretary as he headed back to his office. She would be leaving for the night soon, but he needed to go over a few final things. He closed the door behind him, interrupting her attempt to wish him a nice evening. And immediately tried not to drop his stack of papers when he suddenly realized that someone was already in there.

“Who are you?” snapped Doyle, already planning how to deal with his secretary for her failure to alert him his visitor. “Did Sarah let you in?”

He didn’t recognize the intruder who had the gall to claim Doyle’s chair and even perched his feet on the man’s desk as he smirked at him. But he had black hair with a deep widow’s peak. His features seemed vaguely Native American, though Doyle couldn’t be certain. And he wore a loose light-blue shirt with a black design around the collar and a red sash tied around his waist like a belt. Not the typical ensemble of people that Doyle dealt with. And there was something else that nagged at the edges of his thoughts. Something that just felt off about the man that Doyle couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“I let myself in,” he said, finally taking his feet off the desk. “Hope you don’t mind. As for who I am, you can call me Ray if you like. Of course, I already know who you are. You’re a man with a lot of potential, Pat Doyle. Trust me. I have plenty of experience with a lot of leaders and you have a lot of potential to shake things up. You’re exactly the guy I need.”

Doyle couldn’t help preening slightly at the compliments. But he’d been in the politics game long enough that he could recognize flattery when he heard it. Just as he could recognize the start of a sales pitch.

“What do you want, Ray?”

“I think that we can help each other, Pat. Can I call you Pat?” He shook his head with a slight chuckle. “Doesn’t matter. But I know that you want to get your hands on a gargoyle. You think it’ll win everyone over to your side if you can capture or kill one. Prove that you’re the big man on campus. And I know that you’ve got mercenaries that you can hire because Daddy’s rich and you’ve got connections.” He waved off Doyle’s automatic argument. “I’m not here to judge. But you’ve got the resources to make things happen. Things that I can’t directly interfere with. But I have knowledge and a plan on how to make it happen. If you help me, I can help you snag one of those gargoyles so you can show it off to your future voters. Toss it in a cage, smash it into rubble, or whatever will win over the most people.”

“And how do you expect to capture one?” asked Doyle.

Grinning as he jumped out of the chair and started to slowly pace around the room, Ray said, “Simple. You know the rumors about that crazy rich Xanatos guy maybe having gargoyles camped out on his castle? All true. But no one can really get to them, right? So you need to give him a reason to either hand over a gargoyle or at least stop protecting them.”

“How?” he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the confirmation of Xanatos’s involvement with the creatures.

“Legally, there’s not that many options…”

Recognizing what the dark-haired man was suggesting, Doyle asked, “And what is your less legal idea?”

“His son. That’s his weakness. Have your paid goons grab the boy and the man will be far less concerned about the fate of the gargoyles. Then give him a ransom demand of one of the creatures and there you go. One gargoyle, packaged and delivered for your enjoyment.” Ray stopped directly in front of Doyle and gave a short shrug. “It really isn’t that complicated, this partnership. You provide the mercenaries for the job. I provide you with when and where to take him. And I provide a distraction at a different location. Then all you have to do is make sure that they don’t harm the child and that they can’t be traced back to you.”

After a moment, he asked, “And the child won’t be harmed? Because a baby getting killed doesn’t do good things to a man’s political career.”

“Alexander Xanatos will not be hurt unless your mercenaries are completely incompetent. And if things go according to my plan, I can promise that he will end up where he belongs by the time we’re done.”

“Then when and where do I need to send my people?” he asked, crossing his arms.

A rather proud and arrogant crossing his face, Ray said, “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. And a little bird told me that while David Xanatos intends to remain behind, his wife and son will be going to visit her father for the day. Apparently Halcyon Renard still holds a grudge against his son-in-law and no one wants to ruin the holiday visit. Have your people strike near sunset and I will ensure that something quite distracting will happen at that castle.”

“Something to distract both Xanatos and his gargoyles from interfering with the boy’s abduction,” said Doyle with a thoughtful nod. “Smart.” He was silent for a few moments before frowning. “But how do I know that I can trust you? What’s in all of this for you?”

“What I desire will be accomplished by my distraction. And by your retrieval of the child from his grandfather’s home since I cannot attempt this while everyone is in the same location. It can only work if both halves of the plan happen at the same time and I cannot be in two places at once,” he said.

Doyle considered his words carefully. Ray likely intended to steal something from Xanatos. It was the only thing that made sense with what he knew. Money, banking information, priceless artifacts, technology, or something else that he couldn’t imagine at the moment. What he planned to steal didn’t matter and the plausible deniability meant that Doyle shouldn’t ask, but it must be something located in the Eyrie Building. And while his planned theft would distract Xanatos from his child’s kidnapping, the abduction would then distract him from pursuing the thief and allowing Ray to get away with his prize. A clever strategy where they both come out ahead.

“All right then,” he said slowly. “If I decide to go along with your idea, there can be no way to trace it back to me. And the kid doesn’t get hurt. I would never survive the negative publicity that would cause.” When Ray didn’t bring up any objections to his requirements, Doyle continued, “And if this really needs to happen before sunset tomorrow, we should hurry up and hammer out the details. I’ll need as much time as possible to get my men into place.”

Grinning in a way that was equal parts arrogant and mischievous, Ray said, “Then let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly say that [this site](https://gargwiki.net/Main_Page) was very useful for research and putting things together. Definitely a good resource.
> 
> And fun fact: apparently at one point, Greg Weisman has stated that Owen is asexual and Puck is bi. Now, we could interpret that to mean that the persona of Owen that Puck originally created was meant to be considered asexual. Or we could split the difference and say that Puck/Owen is asexual biromantic. I think the second option fits better. Either way, he clearly cares a lot about Xanatos because he risked and sacrificed a lot for that man. And considering that Owen has always been demonstrated to be the person that Xanatos trusts and depends on most, the feeling is mutual (even if Xanatos rarely thinks/speaks in emotional terms like that). I don't think that their relationship can be easily or neatly defined. And I seriously doubt that Xanatos at least would ever label it. But calling Owen family is probably the simplest way for him to put it.
> 
> I know this first chapter was long, but it was mostly setting things up and showing where several of the characters are at this stage of things. Next will be the more exciting stuff.


	2. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That first chapter was definitely a lot longer than I originally planned. But there wasn’t anywhere convenient to split it up because the biggest chunk was Xanatos’s part in the middle. Neither before nor after his scene would have been long enough for its own chapter. But now we can move forward.
> 
> The Xanatos family has settled in with their gargoyle roommates, Raven is scheming, and Pat Doyle has no idea he’s been pulled into a more complicated plot of “Ray’s” since he has no idea about Oberon’s Children. Things are about to get more intense.

It had been a long night, there was a soggy layer of slush across the ground that the traffic was already churning to a dirty gray, and the wind at the top of the skyscraper cut through her, but Elisa didn’t let that dampen her mood. After working several exhausting hours, going straight back to her apartment to warm up and get some sleep sounded extremely tempting. The cold always seemed to sap her energy faster. But nights were at their longest at that time of the year. Which meant that when her shift ended, she could swing by the Eyrie Building for a little time with Goliath and the others. And she wouldn’t miss that.

She was still there as the Clan headed up to the battlements to settle into their usual spots for the day. They did seem to have preferred places to perch, though she’d noticed that sometimes Angela and Broadway would end up a little closer than normal. Goliath generally ended up at one of the turrets of the castle and that gave them a little privacy. Not that the rest of the clan didn’t know what they were doing, but Elisa was thankful of at least the illusion that they weren’t a spectacle on display.

They didn’t need the distraction.

They parted for the morning the same way that was quickly becoming her favorite. An inexperienced kiss from Goliath that was quickly gaining practice the more that they did it while both hands and talons were buried in each other’s hair. Intimate gestures of affection from two different cultures, coming together to form something meaningful for both of them. Meeting in the middle somewhere between humans and gargoyles.

Kissing Goliath was different than kissing another human. Gargoyle skin didn’t feel the same way. There was a strength and durability to it while remaining soft and flexible. Like supple suede. It was strong enough to resist injuries and cuts, but still gentle and comfortable to touch. Just like Goliath himself.

They’d spent a long time denying what they felt or believing that it was something that they couldn’t have together. It felt wonderful now to simply accept what made them both happy. They had something real. Elisa didn’t know what to call their relationship; Goliath seemed to fall somewhere between a long-term boyfriend that she’d almost been dating for a couple years now and a husband if she put it into human terms while gargoyles had mates. And they choose a mate for life, making it even more impressive that he found a way to move on after Demona broke his heart. Whatever the label, Elisa knew what they had together was permanent and committed. She just couldn’t love anyone else the same way.

This was the life that she chose. The one that she wanted, despite how much easier it would be to pick anything else. Even with all the challenges that they faced, they belonged together. He made her happy. Elisa loved him and every part of their unusual relationship was worth it. She might have given up certain things like picnics on sunny days, discussing him with friends and casual acquaintances, a traditional family… But in any other relationship, she would miss out on other things that she could only have with Goliath. Like flying through the city at night in his arms or occasionally being pulled into a world of magic that no one else would believe. All relationships require compromise and Elisa found Goliath to be worth those small sacrifices.

The good morning kiss ended too soon as always, Goliath pulling back with a final stroke of her hair. Then he settled back on his perch. The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon and the familiar sound of stone forming immediately followed, the closest that she’d ever been able to describe it as was rocks grinding or rubbing against each other. Then Elisa was essentially alone on top of the stone structure, smiling at the motionless figure.

“I guess I’ll see you guys tonight,” she said quietly. “Time to grab some breakfast and a few hours of sleep.”

While the spiral staircase down offered a little shelter from the colder weather, the walk across the courtyard was a wet affair. The sleet from the night before left the ground wet and slushy. The stone paths were left a little slippery and she knew that he would be tracking a mess through the rest of the building. But she couldn’t help it. All that she could do was hurry back into the rest of Castle Wyvern where it was warm and dry.

Elisa didn’t want to imagine the central heating bill for the place. Stone castles weren’t really known for their ability to maintain comfortable temperatures. It probably cost Xanatos more than his continuous repairs of the castle after the various attacks. But considering that her toes were semi-numb, she wasn’t going to complain about rich men throwing their money around.

At least, not that morning. Maybe some other time.

She spared a moment to glance at the Christmas tree in the foyer, part of her not quite ready to take the elevator down and head back out into the cold just yet. It was a pretty tree. She couldn’t deny that. But it was the type of pretty that came from perfection and a staff of professionals ensuring that all the white lights, garland, and color-coordinated ornaments were perfectly spaced out to ensure that it was symmetrical and that everything matched. An artificial form of pretty that didn’t quite have the heart and soul that a tree decorated together as a family possessed. Even the gifts tucked underneath were picture-perfect and clearly wrapped by professionals. Nothing was out of place.

The Maza Family Christmas Tree with the handmade ornaments made out of cardboard, glitter, and popsicle sticks and the mismatched glass spheres that were the lucky survivors of decades of clumsy children was _gorgeous_ in comparison and Elisa would face off against anyone who argued otherwise.

“Mr. Xanatos may not generally make a large production over the holiday when it comes to his personal home,” said Burnett, coming up behind her unexpectantly, “but he felt that we should at least include the basics for Alex’s first Christmas. A tree, gifts, and even a stocking hanging by one of the fireplaces. The season and its traditions tend to be more important and enjoyable for children.”

“That is true,” admitted Elisa, crossing her arms as she glanced towards him. “I always loved Christmas as a kid. Though you might want to adjust the stories a bit or else Alex may have questions when he’s older. Like why Xanatos’s defense systems and the gargoyles would let a stranger in. Or why you two always end up with lumps of coal.”

“I am certain that a suitable excuse will present itself in time,” he said as he adjusted his glasses. “Before you go, would you care for some breakfast? We wouldn’t want you leaving with a poor impression of our hospitality, Detective Maza. Food will be served in the dining room shortly and it would be little trouble to prepare you a plate.”

Elisa didn’t know how Burnett managed to make a polite offer that both sounded genuine and yet completely cold and judgmental. It was something in his tone. Something that set her teeth on edge, even if he didn’t do it all the time. The feud with Xanatos might be officially over, even if she suspected that he was still involved in shady things regardless, but that didn’t mean that she was comfortable with the man. And that didn’t mean that she and Burnett would ever be friends either. For the last couple of years, she’d done everything possible to get Xanatos locked away for good and Burnett did everything possible to protect him from that outcome and other threats. Their opposing goals and the constant thin veneer of manners left behind a certain amount of antagonism between them.

Not to mention the time that she threw one of her crutches at him. That probably didn’t help either.

Of course, learning that Owen Burnett was also Puck didn’t make it better. That information wasn’t reassuring at all. Their first encounter she could blame on Demona. But the last time that Puck was involved in anything major before Oberon meddled, he trapped Goliath in a nightmarish vision of the future because he wanted to steal the Phoenix Gate. Not an act to endear himself to any of them. But honestly no worse than anything that Burnett had done at Xanatos’s behest.

They were on friendlier terms than before Xanatos’s truce with the gargoyles. But Elisa doubted that they would ever be friends.

Burnett or Puck; he was the same person. And she knew what to expect when dealing with him. She expected his polite and cold tone when he made the offer, even though Elisa knew that he would provide her with a full breakfast if she accepted. He was too professional for anything less. Just like his suit remained perfectly pressed and Burnett never showed a hint of weariness despite undoubtedly being up all night like she had been.

“Do you even _need_ sleep?” she muttered with a shake of her head.

“As much as anyone else. I merely know how to schedule it to make the best use of my time.”

Turning back towards the elevator, Elisa said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll grab something to eat on the way home. Cagney is probably already meowing for breakfast.”

“Do try to find something healthy to eat, Detective Maza. We wouldn’t want you to suffer an early demise because you succumbed to the classic cop stereotype of overindulging in donuts.”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t as bad as dealing with Xanatos himself, but even Burnett could annoy her with his dry humor.

“Look, I’ll be back this evening before sundown with some presents for the gargoyles,” she said. Elisa didn’t add that there was something small for Alex that she wrapped without her name on it because he was a sweet baby and it wasn’t _his_ fault who his family was. “Mind if I put them under the tree with the others?”

“I doubt that Mr. Xanatos would object, though I will relay the request anyway.” Burnette gave the smallest nod of dismissal. “Have a good day’s rest, detective.”

“See you around then, I guess.”

She had no intentions of linger any longer. It would be just her luck to have Xanatos wander in and she didn’t want the headache of dealing with him too without at least a few hours of sleep first. The elevator finally arrived and somehow she managed to wait patiently for the doors to close before she let her head lean back against the wall.

“I _still_ can’t believe he’s Puck. Leave it to Xanatos to hire a powerful and magical trickster for an assistant. Even _if_ he can’t do that stuff anymore…”

The trip down the private elevator was a quick one. No one else ever got on it because it was Xanatos’s personal one. She only got to use it because it was the only way to reach the castle portion of the Eyrie Building. Well, that or theoretically the staircase unless Xanatos bribed some building inspector to ignore fire regulations. Elisa wouldn’t put it past him. But most of the staff wouldn’t set foot in Castle Wyvern or the personal elevator except when he required their services. It meant that she didn’t have to attempt small talk when all she wanted was some shuteye. She didn’t have the mental strength for further socialization.

Though the knowing smirk and wave from the guy at the front desk was unavoidable. And mildly distracting. One of these days, Elisa would have to find out what was going on with him and why he always gave her that same look.

* * *

Sid would be the first to admit that this sort of thing wasn’t their typical job. But they’d dealt with more difficult assignments before and Doyle’s father always paid well, something that his son seemed smart enough to do also. It would have also been nice to be given a little more heads up. Not everyone wanted to be working on Christmas Eve at the last minute. But with the promise of better pay due to the holiday and the new added threat of working jobs in New York City close to sundown, the boss managed wrangle enough people for Doyle’s assignment. Probably more than what they actually needed, but a large enough paycheck will draw in some volunteers.

Because at the end of the day, regardless of who hired them and how often, they were mercenaries. And when it came to mercenaries, money talks.

On the surface, the job wasn’t even that complicated. They were currently observing the penthouse for Halcyon Renard, the head and founder of Cyberbiotics. Already that was an easier target than it could have been if the man was on Fortress-2, his research airship, or Cyberbiotics Tower. He was at home and security was to a minimum, the old man allowing most of his staff to go home early to spend time with their families. Only four people should be inside and surveillance was proving that information accurate.

Halcyon Renard. His aide, Preston Vogel. And his daughter and grandson who were visiting him.

The lack of guards on site for the afternoon made things easier, though the old man was at least smart enough to invest in some high-tech security systems. Sid had been reassured that it was very high-tech and top of the line. But that was why they brought Tina with them; she was an expert at bypassing security systems and worked hard to remain up to date on new developments. The fact that she’d already tapped into the video feed was the reason they were getting as much surveillance as they were. They could watch events inside the penthouse through the old man’s own security cameras. During the job, she would handle the technology while the rest of the team subdued the small group of people and snatched the target. Pretty standard operating procedure.

It was the target that was a bit unusual. It was much more common for them to be hired to destroy something, steal a valuable object, or occasionally kidnap an asset. Usually someone in charge of a company, someone in politics, or a scientist. But Doyle wanted them to attain the infant. Alexander Xanatos, the only son of David Xanatos of Xanatos Enterprises and grandchild of Halcyon Renard. A well-connected child, but still a baby. Sid didn’t have a huge amount of morals, but he was silently thankful that the job included the clear orders to leave everyone alive and not to harm the child in the extraction.

At least that should be easy to accomplish. Without the normal security staff, there was minimal chance of collateral damage or the target being caught in the crossfire. As if they would be that incompetent to allow such a thing, but it was nice not to have that as a concern.

The plan was straightforward. After Tina deactivated the security systems, a small group would focus on collecting the child while Sid and the majority of the others would neutralize the adults. There were honestly too many mercenaries for the task, but it was better to have backup in case of complications.

It was an easy job. None of the people in the penthouse should pose a challenge for team of a dozen mercenaries. Preston Vogel was the only one who might cause problems since he was a healthy man still in the prime of his life. They would target him first and remove him as an obstacle before he even noticed their presence. The other two were no threat. One was an old man in a wheelchair whose health was failing him. And the other was some former actress who used to star in some dumb show for children. She’d even legally changed her name to match her character: Fox.

“The Pack” wasn’t even that good of show from what Sid had glimpsed occasionally. The writing was laughable, the plots were repetitive, and the dialogue made him roll his eyes. The only redeeming quality was that the costumes made the woman look hot. And from what their surveillance had proven, she’d regained her figure from childbirth and looked just as attractive.

But just because she faced countless “Evil Ninjas” in that dumb show didn’t mean anything in real life.

Regardless, the job was straightforward and easy. It would take them five minutes, in and out. All that they were doing now was watching and waiting. They couldn’t make a move until it was time. Doyle was very specific when it came to the timing of the extraction. And he was the one paying the big bucks.

* * *

The chilly morning and unpleasant weather of the night before was washed away by an approaching warm front, melting away the remaining slush. Not warm enough to enjoy a pleasant meal out in the courtyard like they might indulge in during the earlier parts of the year, but enough to avoid frostbite if someone was trapped outside for too long. The warm front didn’t completely dry everything off though. The city remained damp with the occasional standing puddles that would undoubtedly freeze into ice once night fell and the temperatures dropped. But for now, the weather felt surprisingly mild for late December in New York City.

It had been a successful and productive day by all metrics. Even with the holiday season slowing things down as everyone looked forward the end of the workday, they managed to conduct a little business after seeing Fox and Alex off that morning. They’d gained a small foothold in one of their competitor’s businesses that would hopefully translate into Xanatos Enterprises buying them out within half a year. Some updates of the newer technological projects were examined to make certain that they were still on schedule. They made a few polite inquiries about some promising magical artifacts. Owen reviewed the contents of the kitchen to ensure that they had the ingredients for a proper Christmas dinner the next day.

Now it was only a matter of preparations for the evening. Sunset was less than an hour away, though the detective should arrive before that point with the promised presents for the gargoyles. Fox and Alex should be home an hour or two after that, depending on how well she and her father got along during the visit. Fox and Halcyon might be getting along better than before, with her no longer trying to take over his company for fun and him learning to hold his tongue about his daughter’s moral flexibility, but they could still try each other’s patience on occasion. Regardless, Owen had a little time before their return.

The best use of his remaining time would be a quick cursory examination of the building’s defenses. Xanatos had multiple enemies with the resources to cause problems. Enemies of both a personal nature and those who were more business related. And with the gargoyles once more in residence, that added their enemies to the list of possible intruders. The Quarrymen were unlikely to launch a concentrated strike on Christmas Eve since most of their members were fairly ordinary people with families who simply gave into panic and paranoia, but others like Demona remained a possibility. It was wise to review the systems regularly and perform maintenance as soon as issues developed.

No one could ever claim that they didn’t take security seriously. The energy shielding system that Owen had installed to the building to protect against Oberon hadn’t been restored after that night, the generators for it burned out by the attack and cost/reward ratio meant that it wasn’t worth the effort to restore them. But there were other, more practical defenses. The particle beam accelerator cannons had been restored to several of the turrets and upgraded. They provided useful protection against humans in helicopters and similar assaults, though they weren’t as useful against more agile targets like Demona or Thailog. That’s why they kept the Steel Clan and the larger, bulkier, and Third-Race-deadly Iron Clan on standby. Even if their artificial intelligence wasn’t perfect, he or Xanatos could program them to target anyone other than designated individuals in a fight. Which currently meant that unless they were told otherwise, they would attack anyone who wasn’t Xanatos, Owen, the Clan, or Detective Maza once activated. That kept the Eyrie Building safe from aerial assaults and the security team, cameras, and alarms protected against someone trying to work their way up from ground level.

A more naïve person might claim that no one could breach the Eyrie Building. Owen was smarter than that. But he could at least minimize the chances of someone attacking the place and maximize the chances of repelling those attacks once they occurred. Though he did mentally add the task of working on magical defenses to the list of future projects to suggest to Xanatos. Perhaps he could make it a lesson for Alex.

Owen’s musing as he crossed the courtyard, intending to check over the various stashes of particle beam accelerator guns stored in hidden compartments for emergencies, came to a halt as he heard the throaty croak of a crow or raven. And that sound immediately sent a chill down his spine. The building was too tall for most city birds to bother reaching and the vast majority of the local species would have migrated to warmer climates for the season. There shouldn’t be any birds up there. Certainly not any normal birds.

When he heard the croak again, Owen turned. Perched on the edge of the outer stone wall and watching him with far too much intelligence was a raven. Or at least something that resembled one.

“We weren’t expected company outside of the detective. If you’d called ahead, we could have arranged a suitable meal for your visit,” he said dryly.

The caws from the bird almost sounded like laughter as he briefly ruffled his feathers. Then he flew towards the raised bridge that loomed over Owen, the one that connected between two sections of the keep. But when he landed on the higher surface, he transformed in a swirl of magic. Legs dangling over the edge as he sat there and grinned down at Owen, the bird had adopted a more humanoid shape. He’d reclaimed his preferred form with dark hair, a warm complexion, an arrogant expression, and pointed ears.

“I don’t suppose you stopped by simply because you missed me, Raven,” he continued. “That’s not really your style. And I don’t recall the last time there was more than one trickster in the same place at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t be able to name it either. At least nowhere that’s still standing,” said Raven, his grin shifting to a smirk. “Though to be fair, Coyote and I never did get along. There was bound to be a bit of collateral damage when our paths crossed.”

“Please resist the urge to cause similar chaos here, if you don’t mind. We just recently repaired the damage from the fight with Thailog on Halloween and it would be nice to keep the castle intact for longer than a couple of months at a time.”

Shaking his head, Raven said, “You’re no fun now, Puck. Did getting stuck as a human make you boring?”

Owen used the excuse of adjusting his glasses in order stealthily glance at the stone wall that contained one of the hidden caches of weapons. The panel also had some switches inside, one to activate the Steel and Iron Clan robots and one to send an alarm inside that would alert the household. And in this specific case, Xanatos. The logic of such an arrangement was that if they needed access to the particle beam accelerators, then the situation was likely dire and they might also need further defenses immediately. A practical precaution. One that might be necessary soon.

He wasn’t a fool. Raven wasn’t there for a social call. All of the Third Race should be in Avalon still and Oberon wouldn’t have let him slip away without good reason. Owen knew that if Raven was there, trouble was bound to follow.

Owen enjoyed a little chaos as much the next trickster. But there was a fine line between harmless entertainment and maliciousness bordering on deadly. And he knew which side of the line that Raven would likely fall on.

“I assume that means what happened that night is now common knowledge,” said Owen.

Still smirking, Raven said, “You mean how you refused the command to attend the Gathering, sided with a human over our lord, and have forever lost Oberon’s favor? Between that and the arrangement with Titania’s grandchild, you’re the biggest piece of gossip among the Children of Oberon.” He leaned forward to stare down at Owen from his perch. “You’ve lost the title of his favorite trickster, Puck. He is still furious with you. And I rather like the idea of claiming your old role for myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

So that was it. He wanted to climb to a higher social standing with Oberon. With all the perks that came with his favor. And the fact that he was there meant that Raven believed he could achieve his goal somehow by visiting Eyrie Building. And that his plan was reasonable enough for Oberon to grant permission.

There was a fairly obvious possibility. One thing that Raven could offer that Oberon wanted and that he might find in New York City.

“If you intend to gift wrap and deliver Alex as a Christmas present for him, I’m afraid that you have made a mistake,” he said evenly. “He and his mother aren’t home at the moment.”

The smirk turned into a predatory grin as Raven climbed to his feet. Owen took a step backwards towards the wall and the hidden panel concealing the weapons. The expression did not bode well. It promised dangerous and vicious things. He needed to be ready to react quickly if the situation turned as serious as Owen suspected.

“I know the boy isn’t here,” said Raven. “That was the point. I didn’t come to this place for him and it is better that he is somewhere else. It means that there is no child to protect or teach. You are stuck as nothing except a powerless human. A powerless, fragile, and vulnerable human, but not a true mortal and thus not protected by Oberon’s command not to meddle. And as I told you, he remains furious about your betrayal. How do you think he will react if something happens to you, Puck?”

And with that ominous statement, Raven dropped down to the courtyard in the same instant that Owen flung himself forward and slammed his right hand on the seemingly-ordinary stone. The panel slid open and he managed to hit both switches and yank out the smaller model weapon before Raven closed the distance. An inhumanely-strong hand latched onto Owen’s wrist, hard enough to bruise as Raven’s grip force him to drop the particle beam accelerator.

Unfortunately for Raven, he apparently missed the souvenir from Owen’s encounter with the Cauldron of Life.

A stone fist slammed into Raven’s jaw, stunning the trickster momentarily. Owen took advantage of the loosened grip to twist his wrist enough that he could grab Raven’s arm. He turned and shifted his weight, letting momentum carry the motion as Owen flung Raven over his shoulder to crash roughly on the ground.

He might not have access to magic, but years of sparring with Xanatos meant that he wasn’t completely helpless.

Owen wanted to grab the weapon while he had the chance, but Raven recovered faster than expected. He rolled back to his feet and forced Owen to retreat. The other trickster was treating this seriously, even if he hadn’t used any magic yet. He could have broken Owen’s wrist if they hadn’t separated. Raven wasn’t limited to the strength of a human body; he currently only had a humanoid form rather than an actual human shape. The ears would have given it away if nothing else. Direct attacks up close wouldn’t work and he would need space to move if and when Raven decided to toy with him using magic. Owen needed to be clever and careful.

The sound of jet propulsion brought a small grin to his face. He recognized the specific models. The robots were airborne. The Steel Clan were tough enough on their own, but the Iron Clan would be dangerous. One good thing about being stuck as a human was that Owen didn’t burn every time he touched iron as he would in his natural state. But Raven would not handle them as easily. Not without taking a mortal shape and thus limiting his ability to use magic.

“You brought some friends, Puck?’ he asked before throwing his hand out in a sudden gesture. Magic swirled and sparkled in the orange light of approaching twilight, twisting into the shapes of colorful animalistic gargoyles despite the hour. “Maybe they should meet mine.”

“Illusions,” said Owen, knowing that the creation of true opponents would require a proper spell for someone like Raven.

“Distractions,” he confirmed as the figures took flight to meet the robots. “I don’t want interruptions. And I would prefer to finish things up before nightfall. Goliath is such a meddling annoyance.”

“A common sentiment,” said Owen.

Then he took the risk of diving for the weapon. His right hand wrapped around the particle beam accelerator. He swung it up, resting it on his stone forearm for balance and stability. The bright blast knocked Raven flying back.

“But I’m afraid that I have no intentions of making this easy for you either,” continued Owen.

* * *

Of all the things that Xanatos expected to find in his foyer, Elisa stepping off the elevator with a stack of brightly-colored gifts in her arms should not have been that surprising. Especially compared to things like gargoyles, immortals, robots, mutates, and members of Oberon’s Children. That didn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow at the sight of the detective trying to balance the numerous presents in her arms.

“Need some help, Detective Maza?” he asked.

“From you?”

Shrugging slightly, Xanatos said, “I wouldn’t want you to drop something and break it. If you want, you can blame my momentary benevolence on the holiday spirit.”

“Fine,” said Elisa, still trying to shift the weight in her arms. “Grab the top two and stick them under the tree.” As he moved to comply, she added, “I knew I should have made a second trip or at least brought Lexington and Hudson’s gifts later. It’s not like they’re here to open them yet. But you know what they say about hindsight.”

“You were never one to do things the easy way, detective.”

As she knelt and started setting everything down, Elisa asked, “Don’t you pay someone to carry boxes for you?”

“You mean when he isn’t also running my businesses alongside me and ensuring that this turns out to be the most profitable quarter in a couple years?” he asked. “I think I can spare Owen from helping move a few gifts ten feet.”

Her gifts stood out from those that were already under tucked beneath the tree. Smaller bows, fewer ribbons, and tiny cartoon snowmen and snowflakes on the wrapping paper didn’t quite match what the high-end stores did with their professional wrapping. And each one was neatly labeled with her handwriting. It made it easy to notice one with Alex’s name, though Xanatos valiantly decided not to mention it.

Maintaining peace with the gargoyles and Elisa required knowing when to keep silent. And that included not making her regret when she did something nice by pointing it out.

“I’ll try to get out of your hair before too long,” she said. “You, Fox, and Alex probably have family stuff planned. I’m just staying around long enough to wish everyone a merry Christmas and then Goliath and I will be heading out. I think Brooklyn mention that the others were going to look at the tree at the Rockefeller Center.”

“And I suppose you will be visiting your own family tomorrow morning then.”

Elisa nodded and said, “My sister is even flying in. You don’t miss a Maza Family Christmas without good reason. I’m pretty sure Mom would even go down to the Labyrinth and drag Derek to the family dinner if he tries to wiggle out of it. She’s also eager to meet Maggie after she found out about…”

She trailed off, refusing to look up from where she was arranging and rearranging the gifts. Xanatos knew that it wasn’t meant to be widely-known for a number of reasons. A few careful donations to the hospital weren’t enough to loosen Dr. Sato’s tongue about the topic, but Xanatos had his ways of gathering information and a winged feline hybrid could only hide her pregnancy for so long. News traveled fast. And while he could offer congratulations on the detective’s future as an aunt or ask if they knew anything regarding whether the child showed signs of developing into a mutate or an ordinary human, Xanatos knew better.

Any topic that dealt with her brother or what happened to him was a sensitive one. And likely always would be. He still maintained that Derek had been an ideal candidate for his plan due to his past experience and his nature, even if the mutates ultimately proved just as unreliable a substitute for the gargoyles as the rest of his attempts. But it remained a troublesome obstacle when it came to rebuilding those burnt bridges. And he currently had no way to repair that damage and return “Talon” back to his human state, meaning it would remain a possible pitfall in future interactions. Bringing up those memories was the quickest way to upset the detective. Not something that he needed to do while the truce was still new and fragile.

Xanatos was saved from having to find a safer discussion or to excuse himself from her presence entirely. Without any other sign or warning of a problem, the klaxon-like alarm blared out. Loud enough that it could not be ignored by anyone within the stone walls. Not the standard system alarm responding to a problem. It was the one that needed to be purposefully activated by an actual person instead of an automated system triggering the alarm. And there was only one reason for it to sound.

And since Fox was still visiting her father and it wasn’t quite sundown yet, there was only one person who could have activated it.

Elisa shot to her feet at the first sound, her hand already instinctively reaching for her gun. Not yet drawing it, but preparing for the possible threat just the same.

“What does _that_ alarm mean?” she demanded.

“It means that I’d better get my exo-suit armor and get you a better weapon.” Xanatos was already moving, fully expecting the detective to follow because he wasn’t going to waste any time. “Someone is attacking the castle.”


	3. Attack at Castle Wyvern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of comments for that last chapter, but I suppose that’s to be expected. After ending years ago, the fandom is bound to be a bit smaller. But hopefully those who are reading this are at least enjoying the story.
> 
> It is so rare for the action to start in “Gargoyles” before sundown. But things are definitely happening at Castle Wyvern and the Clan is snoozing through it. I hope that people are enjoying this fic. Because my brain has decided that it is no longer under my control and is running wild.

After settling Alex down in one of the bedrooms for an afternoon nap, the small travel crib snapping together in seconds, the two of them wandered into the library. Without Alex to serve as a distraction and as a buffer between them, it could be difficult for father and daughter to interact. They tended to clash against each other, their morals and views of the world too different. Their relationship was a rough and fragile thing that they were still mending. Fox and Halcyon Renard required something to keep the peace between them for the rest of the visit.

Which was why they were in the library, Fox claiming the old wingback chair in the corner by the windows and Halcyon positioning his wheelchair next to her with his back turned towards the shelves. And in between rested the small table with his beautifully carved chessboard.

It had been his suggestion. Fox loved playing any type of challenging games and he enjoyed anything that kept his mind sharp. His body might be failing him, bound to his state-of-the-art wheelchair and his bedroom filled with increasing amounts of medical equipment, but he’d managed to keep his wits. Enough that the rest of the board could not yet force him away from a leadership role within his company. Halcyon remained sharp and cunning. Which left chess as a save activity that they both enjoyed.

And with the distraction of chess, they could manage a little conversation that wasn’t focused solely on Alex.

“There have been several interesting exchanges of stock shares within Cyberbiotics lately,” said Halcyon as his rook claimed a pawn. “It has caught the attention of the board enough to mention it at the last meeting. Though we’re not certain if they are new investors or people trying to hide their identities through tricks like shell companies. Not yet anyway. Is any of it _your_ doing, Janine?”

Smirking, Fox said, “Why would I try stealing your company _that_ way? It’s the most boring way possible. Besides, I told you months ago that I wouldn’t try it again.”

Though her husband might. While she played the game for fun, he always focused more on the prize at the end. He was the type who would pick the boring and practical path to victory if it proved the most effective. Fox might have to ask him if he was planning something with Cyberbiotics currently.

“Parenthood has mellowed you out,” he said.

“Not hardly.” Her bishop slid across the board. “I just find new ways to entertain myself. We’re a little busier now after all. A lot of things have changed since Alex was born. Though we certainly haven’t given up _everything_.”

“Finding the balance between children and the rest of your life is important,” he said. Then Halcyon glanced away and asked, “And speaking of parenthood, have you heard from your mother?”

Fox scowled at her knight as she used it to block his rook. She used to be close to her mother. Or at least Fox thought she was. Then she found out that everything that she knew about Anastasia Renard was a lie. The woman that she’d known her entire life wasn’t who Fox believed her to be. Instead, her mother wasn’t even human. She was Titania, Queen of the Third Race and the one who encouraged Oberon to try kidnapping Alex.

Fox could see in hindsight it was part of some larger manipulation and that she shouldn’t be surprised that her mother treated them like pieces on a chessboard in order to accomplish her goal. That same trait was what made David Xanatos seem so brilliant and attractive. But even if it ended with Alex remaining with his family and having a magic tutor, Fox nearly lost her child that night. And she couldn’t help holding a grudge.

Meanwhile, Halcyon was still trying to wrap his head around the entire mess. Everything that was revealed that night was shocking, but the truth about his ex-wife most of all. As hard as it was for Fox to come to terms with her mother’s true nature, he was having far more trouble. They were married once. They were in love once. That was supposed to mean something. And being a member of the Fair Folk was a pretty big secret to keep from someone that was supposed to mean the world to you.

Of course, Fox was a bit of a romantic and might have a different point of view on things than some people.

“She’s not been around since that night,” said Fox darkly. “I’m not sure that I would let her visit Alex even if she showed up again.”

“I’ve always believed in second chances, at least when someone is willing to put in the work and demonstrate that they are attempting to improve,” he said slowly. “But in the end, it is your decision. She is your mother, but Alex is your son. If she ever asks for your forgiveness, you will have to be the one to decide if it is something that you can give her.” Halcyon’s knight moved a few spaces. “And check.”

Shifting her king out of the way, Fox asked, “Would you have forgiven Grandfather if he tried to kidnap me as a baby?”

“Not easily and not for a long time.”

“Then I’ll probably stay mad at her for a while longer.”

Chuckling darkly, Halcyon said, “Fair enough.”

A sudden thump caused her head to snap up. A second later she realized that the sound didn’t come from the direction of where Alex was sleeping. While that should have been reassuring, it didn’t clarify what caused the noise. There was almost no one in the penthouse. In fact, the only other person was…

“Mr. Vogel?” called Halcyon. “Is everything all right?”

The lack of response was even more concerning. Fox silently rose from the wingback chair while the quiet hum of machinery told her that her father was also turning towards the doorway. Their eyes remained locked on the sole point of entry; the windows had decorative iron bars that would keep most airborne intruders from smashing their way in. She reached without looking, one hand carefully gripping the edge of the carved chessboard.

“I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any better at using… that magic thing of yours, have you?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve tried, but it hasn’t happened since. We think that it was pretty much an adrenaline-fueled stress reaction. Not something that I can control or practice.” Fox’s voice remained equally soft. “We can’t rely on that helping us.”

“Fair enough. We’ll handle this the traditional way.”

Fox could have pointed out that technically they didn’t know if there was anything to handle. But neither of them believed that. They were both too smart and had dealt with a variety of experiences over their lives. They could recognize a dangerous situation even with minimal evidence.

There were no obvious signs, though there must have been some type of signal. There was nothing further to alert them. All she knew was that suddenly several figures dressed in black burst through the doorway, armed with smaller weapons that looked more like they fired tranquilizers instead of bullets.

Professional mercenaries, judging by the way they moved. Intending to disarm or capture, not kill.

Fox couldn’t spare any further thoughts on the matter though. She was already moving.

She flung her arm out, sending the carved chessboard flying like a frisbee to crash into the closest one’s helmet-protected face. He went down hard. Fox crossed the room before he hit the ground, flipping overhead to make it harder for the attackers to aim at her. She landed lightly before spinning on the ball of her foot, sweeping her leg to knock another mercenary on his back. Then she surged back upright just in time to land a right hook to the third’s chin.

It was like no one remembered that Fox did all her own stunts and fight scenes.

Fox almost glance back to check on her father, but the sound of weapons’ fire reassured her that he was handling them. His wheelchair had particle beam accelerators installed for defense and he knew how to use them. Then she heard a very different whirl of machinery as Halcyon summoned a swarm of the yellow defense models of cybots, the small flying machines armed with their own energy cannons. He certainly had his half of the mercenaries under control.

“Corporate espionage?” she guessed as she threw another sharp jab at an opponent.

Firing an aggressive assault from his defensible position against the bookshelves, Halcyon said, “Probably. Or maybe they’re fans who were disappointed that your show was canceled.”

“I’ll try offering them an autograph,” she said, snapping her leg up to kick a mercenary in the stomach.

* * *

The brief detour to grab his exo-suit armor and toss the detective a smaller particle beam accelerator didn’t take long. Only a few minutes. But it felt longer and Xanatos hated the feeling of urgency that the alarm had sparked. Something was wrong and he didn’t have enough information to make a plan or take control. And he didn’t like not having a plan.

The moment he stepped outside, metal clanging on stone underfoot, he realized that the situation was more serious than he expected. Gargoyle-like creatures twisted and swooped through the air. The Steel and Iron Clans tried to attack the intruders as the setting sun reflected off the metal. The aerial combat played out overhead, the robots trying to shoot them down while the creatures made use of their agility in an attempt to make them crash. Between the fast movements and the numerous combatants, Xanatos couldn’t keep track of how many were swooping around. But there were more than the half a dozen Clan members that he’d normally fought.

“I recognize them,” said Elisa, brow furrowing, “but it doesn’t make sense. And there’s a lot more than last time.”

“Who are they?” he asked, needing information in order to pull together some type of plan to work with. His targeting system kept trying to denote each gliding shape, but Xanatos kept trying to spot something that should be closer to the ground. “What do they want? Goliath and the others?”

“Not a who. A what.” She tightened her grip on the handheld energy weapon. “They’re illusions. Fakes. Another of the Third Race made a bunch of gargoyles that look like they came from a totem pole. Those are what’s flying around now, but they’re just illusions to keep your robots busy. We need to track down Raven. He’s the one causing this.”

“You search on the ground and I’ll take to the air,” he said. “Yell if you spot either him or Owen.”

Then he launched himself upwards, jets and metal wings giving Xanatos true flight rather than mere gliding. Even if Elisa told him that they were only illusions, he still instinctively dodged the swift shapes. He couldn’t spare the time differentiating between the illusions and the robots. Both were fast and agile figures and Xanatos couldn’t risk running into something solid. It was safer to dodge any obstacles.

He didn’t know what Raven looked like. Especially since Oberon’s Children were natural shapeshifters. Instead, his eyes and targeting systems searched the open space below while Elisa undoubted ran towards the sleeping gargoyles. Xanatos scanned the courtyard for a blond man in a suit. A far more logical approach than looking for someone that he wouldn’t recognize.

He needed to find Owen. He would be near one of the hidden weapon caches since he must have triggered the alarm. Unfortunately, there were several of them. A precaution against getting trapped away from any weapons, but one that would make it more difficult to track Owen down now. Xanatos needed to figure out which one while dodging at least twenty-odd robots and illusionary animal-headed gargoyles.

A loud crash of metal smashing into stone told him that at least one member of the Steel or Iron Clan was gone. Probably lured into the impact by the illusionary opponent. No amount of reprogramming had ever managed to remove that flaw. They were too easy to trick into crashing into obstacles during a fight. But as long as they weren’t tricked into crashing into Xanatos, he didn’t care at that moment what happened to them.

There were more important things to focus on. He still hadn’t spotted Owen through the chaos.

Then the fog rolled in unnaturally fast and engulfed the castle.

* * *

While he didn’t expect Puck to roll over and die, Raven was mildly surprised that the human-cursed trickster was causing him so much trouble. Without magic and facing another trickster who could match his cleverness, he was left with far more simple methods of resistance. But he was managing regardless. Between his ability to throw a sharp punch with a powerful stone fist and his strange energy gun, he refused to be an easy target. The blond man dodged and danced out of reach at every opportunity while doing his best to also keep Raven at bay. He was making the entire thing _interesting_.

Of course, the capabilities of the human persona of Puck wasn’t the only complication. Ducking beneath one of the swooping robots that came uncomfortably close, one forged from cold iron and firing at his illusionary clan, Raven had to admit that the castle’s defenses were more troublesome than he predicted. He would have been hurt worse than a couple punches if he was limited to merely mortal reflexes.

He could try some more powerful and complicated spells. That was always an option. But he had a preference for illusions and glamours. They could be just as effective as the real thing, but with half the effort. And there was less risk of directly interfering with mortals by accidentally and earning Oberon’s displeasure. Illusions were indirect by definition. And to be honest, he didn’t want to waste his power on a human. Because for all intents and purposes, Puck was just a human now and deserved to be swatted like any other pest.

A messy splatter like crushing a fly with a rolled-up newspaper. An intriguing visual image. One that had promise. He rather like the idea.

But first, Raven needed to ensure that there would be no further distractions. The sun was quickly slipping towards the horizon. And that would awaken the true gargoyles and complicate things. It was time to stop toying with the powerless Puck.

“ _Mist and fog to conceal from sight, Form now in the evening light_ ,” he recited, his eyes glowing brighter. “ _Muffle sound and hide from the eye, Let none glimpse who is to die._ ”

Despite the final rays of sunlight lingering in the sky, a thick cloud of fog rolled in to swallow the top of the building. Thick enough to plunge everything into darkness and reduce visibility to almost nothing. More crashes followed from the robots struggling to adapt to the change. But not as many as Raven would have hoped. More importantly, Puck was firing blind with his weapon now. And any allies that might interfere would be just as confused.

It wasn’t a powerful or long-lasting spell. A minor trick to distract and disorient. Not that dangerous unless someone stumbled off the edge of the building. But it would leave his target helpless and vulnerable. Easy to finish off.

Raven heard the explosive shattering of stone and the inhuman roars, announcing both the arrival of nightfall and the awakening of the gargoyles. The fog and illusions would keep them distracted for the moment, but he needed to finish.

Doyle’s men would be collecting the child already.

A swirl of magic and he shifted into a new shape. A gargoyle with a raven-like head. A form that he’d worn before not that long ago. A strong and powerful shape that also gave him wings. Useful for what he had in mind.

Puck didn’t see him through the mist, but Raven had a slight advantage considering that the spell was his work. He could use his magic coiling around his surroundings to navigate and even “see” to an extent. That allowed him to glide in close and for powerful talons to wrap around Puck’s throat. And then, catching an updraft, he soared upwards with his victim.

Having all of his weight suspended by the hand gripping his neck made it difficult to breathe. The weapon was immediately lost. Puck instinctively grabbed Raven’s wrist, trying to support himself and ease the pressure. His other petrified hand scrambled desperately and uselessly. The struggle to breathe meant that he didn’t have the concentration to fight back anymore. And fighting back would mean falling. The best that he could manage was a choked, gasping, and weak sound as he struggled for air. As Raven lifted him above the castle, he looked far too human and vulnerable.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

“You chose a human over Oberon’s command,” said Raven coldly. “For that, you were cursed with a mortal existence. And what is more mortal than _this_?” He tilted his head slightly as he started at the panicked gaze of the blond man in his outstretched grip. “Should I let that human watch? Should he bear witness to what he’s reduced you to?”

A broken and desperate sound made it through the strangled throat. But no words. The talons were wrapped too tightly for that, already bruising the flesh. And there was not enough air to speak. Only enough to ensure that Puck did not lose consciousness. He didn’t want him to miss out on what he had planned.

Raven could feel the human-cursed trickster’s racing pulse. He could feel the rapid beating with his grip around Puck’s throat. Terror filled those veins. Puck knew how much danger he was in. He knew what Raven was doing and what would happen.

Gravity, when it wasn’t manipulated and softened by magic, was a straightforward and practical thing. And no silver-tongue or clever tricks could change it. There was nothing that he could do while trapped as a human. Gravity’s hold was absolute. And gravity was not forgiving or kind.

Raven didn’t plan to drop Puck off the entire building. That would give the gargoyles or the robots too much time to snatch him up to save Puck. Raven merely intended to release enough above the courtyard to smash against the stones below. Human bodies were impossibly fragile.

The sound of jet propulsion swiftly approaching startled Raven into releasing his hold sooner than expected. He ignored the startled scream as he grabbed the robot. Raven screeched in annoyance at the cold iron, but he didn’t hold onto it long. Barely long enough to twist and fling it downwards. The trajectory left it crashing into a stone wall, causing part of the structure to partially collapse. Then Raven released his earlier spells.

Both the fog and the illusions dissolved away just as Puck’s human guise slammed roughly to the ground, the wreckage from the destroyed wall and the metal robot tumbling down to bury the limp figure.

And with that, the mortals could not fulfill their end of the bargain with Oberon.

* * *

If asked, Elisa would claim that her decision to hurry towards the turret was a strategic one. It would give her a good view of the surroundings and a better chance of spotting Raven either above or below. But if she was honest, Elisa wanted to make certain that he wasn’t targeting Goliath and the others. While Natsilane was to blame for his last failure to conquer Queen Florence Island, she wouldn’t put it past him to hold a grudge for their involvement.

She made it to the top just as a thick fog washed over the castle. And nothing about it felt natural.

“An illusionary clan of gargoyles and now fog,” she muttered. “Raven hasn’t gotten any less annoying. Suppose we’re lucky we don’t have a giant monster here yet.”

The familiar sound of stone shattering and the roars of awakening gargoyles announced a moment later that the sun had officially set. Then there was a low growl as they realized that they could hear the robots flying around. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Steel and Iron Clans flying around were making them half-suspected a sudden betrayal from Xanatos.

“Goliath,” she called as she reached him. “It’s Raven. The skies are filled with his illusions and now he’s summoned up this fog. Be careful. We don’t know what he’s after.”

“A trickster would seek out mischief at a minimum,” said Goliath, “but more likely would attempt something truly dangerous.”

Climbing up the turret and perching on the edge, Brooklyn said, “Yeah, from what you told us, Raven doesn’t _do_ harmless mischief.”

“And how will we find him in this mist?” asked Angela as she and Broadway joined them.

As if responding to her question, the fog and the fake gargoyles dissolved away just as a brief scream broke the heavy silence. Elisa’s head snapped around just in time for a crash and the sound of tumbling rocks to nearly swallow a dull _thud_ , cutting off the scream. She spotted the gargoyle-form of Raven gliding far above them among the still-airborne robots. And she saw a small section of the castle collapsed into a pile of rubble, the large carved stones still in the process of falling.

“ _Owen!_ ”

Even with his voice slightly muffled and robotic from inside his exo-suit armor, Elisa couldn’t remember ever hearing Xanatos’s voice like that before. And while several robots remained in the air, the metal figure with red wings was the one diving towards the courtyard. But his single-minded plunge towards the broken pile of stones broke off as Xanatos was forced to dodge the Steel Clan robot that Raven hurtled towards him.

“I really don’t get what he saw in you,” said the trickster. “A rich and clever human, but you’re still just a human. Not worth getting on Oberon’s bad side. But then Puck disobeyed because of you and your child. As foolish as any mortal.”

And with that, Xanatos changed his trajectory towards the enemy that remained above his home. He aimed towards the threat.

Goliath and the others started taking to the air. They couldn’t ignore the danger to the castle and those who lived there either. But Elisa managed to snag Broadway’s arm before he leapt. With a small head gesture, she reminded him that there were more important things than attacking the intruder. He carried her down to the courtyard before the others could even reach Raven. Then Elisa was running towards the new pile of rubble.

“You could fight me,” shouted Raven, soaring away from them and the castle, “or you could try to save the boy. Tell me, human. Where is your son? Because he will not be yours much longer. One way or another, he will belong to Oberon before the new year begins.”

Xanatos fired in his direction, but Raven twisted in midair. Dodging the bright beam and still soaring away as quickly as possible into a clouds, which ensured that they would not be able to follow him easily. And that forced Xanatos and the others to make a terrible and painful decision: go protect Xanatos’s son at his grandfather’s home or remain to check on his assistant currently hidden beneath the destruction to the castle.

But it was a choice that Elisa could simplify.

“Go save Alex,” she yelled. “Broadway and I will take care of Burnett. _Go!_ ”

Xanatos hesitated only for a moment longer before apparently the protective father instinct overcame his worry over Burnett’s state. Though Elisa could only imagine his expression beneath his armor. The metal winged figure twisted around and raced through the sky. The rest of the clan followed, any reluctance to help the man outweighed by the urge to protect an innocent child from harm. Elisa quietly wished them luck and hoped that they would be safe. Then she dragged her attention away from the sky.

Elisa knew that Burnett was hurt. There was no avoiding that. Especially when part of the castle collapsed on top of him. Those carved stones were large and heavy to the point of being deadly. But she was hoping that the injuries wouldn’t be too bad. She knew that Xanatos included a stocked infirmary in the building; she’d seen it before. And if the injuries weren’t too grave, she had some minor first aid knowledge and they could patch Burnett up there. That was the best-case scenario. She didn’t want to consider something worse, though she’d been a detective too long to avoid those thoughts completely.

“Be careful, Broadway,” she said, moving some of the smaller pieces. “We don’t want to risk making it worse.”

It took longer than she’d hoped. The small section of wall had crumbled apart into heavy carved stones, most of them still too large for Elisa to move on her own. Sometimes there would be a shifting sound and part of the rubble would try to tumble further. And there were jagged metal pieces of the destroyed robot mixed in with the debris. Thankfully the rest of the wall didn’t fall on top of them while they worked. But she and Broadway slowly lifted away the wreckage until she could glimpse the ragged sleeve of an expensive suit. Then the progress went a little faster.

There was blood. That was most of what they found as Broadway lifted away the last of the larger stones. Blood from various scrapes and cuts. Blood bleeding from both his ears. Blood staining the ground. And when Elisa carefully slid her fingers around to check the back of his head, she found more blood discoloring his blond hair.

She couldn’t tell which injuries were from the fall itself and which were from the section of the stone wall collapsing on top of him immediately after. But she found herself mentally cataloging his condition. His glasses were gone, probably mixed in with the debris of the destroyed robot that they’d cleared away. Burnett’s skin was paler than normal where it wasn’t bleeding or bruising. She was relatively certain that his left leg was broken. It didn’t look quite right, even with the way he was sprawled. She also suspected there were other broken bones and serious internal bleeding that she couldn’t see yet. And while she could feel a faint pulse when her fingers moved down to his neck, Elisa didn’t particularly like how weak it felt nor how his breathing sounded.

“Burnett,” she called gently. “Can you hear me? Owen Burnett. If you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes and look at me.”

She didn’t expect a response, but she had to at least check if he was conscious. Not that he seemed to be in any condition to be awake. The head injury would be bad enough, but the second more concerning injury was a sharp piece of iron shrapnel embedded in his side. Near the bottom of his rib cage, the blood was seeping from the wound into the fabric of his suit. Elisa didn’t know how deep it might be, but it certainly didn’t look good.

When she saw Broadway reaching, Elisa said, “Don’t try pulling it out. That could make him bleed out faster. He needs an actual doctor.” She bit her bottom lip briefly in thought. “We really shouldn’t risk moving someone who could have a neck or spine injury. And based on how high Raven was when he fell, I can’t imagine him _not_ having a neck or spine injury. But it’s going to take a while to get an ambulence to the building with all the holiday traffic. And even then, the EMTs will have to get up here and then get him all the way back to the hospital. I’m not sure he’s got that kind of time.”

“Then what’s the plan?” asked Broadway, letting her take the lead.

Elisa gave the barely breathing Burnett another quick scan, trying to see if she missed anything. He didn’t look like the hyper-competent assistant of the immoral Xanatos nor the magically powerful and clever trickster. He just looked hurt and broken. And far too human.

“Okay, we need to handle this carefully. Leave the metal where it is in him,” she said slowly. “And I need you to carry him to the hospital.”

He gave her a nod, his expression grave and serious. Elisa suspected that the entire situation reminded Broadway too much about that night when he needed to perform a similar emergency flight to save her life.

“We don’t know how much damage the fall did, so you have to be very gentle and steady with him,” she continued, speaking as calmly as possible in order to maintain a sense of control. “Make sure to support his head and neck and don’t let anything move or shift. If you can get him there, I’ll drive myself to the hospital.”

And she could try calling Dr. Sato before she left, just in case he wasn’t on duty that night. After his involvement with some of the more unusual inhabitants of New York City, Elisa managed to get his phone number for emergencies. He was a talented surgeon, skilled in emergency medicine, and wouldn’t ask too many distracting questions about Burnett’s petrified hand. Those were all traits that were desperately needed.

Broadway moved with more care than his bulky size would suggest. He gathered up the limp figure in his arms, Burnett not making the slightest sound or movement in response. The lifelessness of him in the gargoyle’s arms was uncomfortable, but Elisa tried not to think too closely about it. He was still breathing for the moment. That was as much of a Christmas miracle as they could ask for currently.

“I’ll meet you there then,” said Broadway. “Bronx can guard the castle while we’re gone.”

And with that, Broadway spread his wings and carried Burnett away on the wind. Elisa watched him for a moment, silently hoping for the best. Just because she wasn’t exactly friends with the man didn’t mean that she wanted Burnett to die. And as much as she might wish to deny it, she knew enough about the human body to know that he wouldn’t survive without help.

She really hoped that she wouldn’t have to tell Xanatos that he died. That would be a horrible and traumatic experience for everyone involved.


	4. Kidnapping Attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I warned that things would get a bit more intense in this fic. But the show keeps dropping people off of high places. Eventually someone was bound not to be rescued in time.

The penthouse of Halcyon Renard wasn’t at elaborate or impressive as Xanatos’s home. To be fair, most people didn’t purchase and rebuild a castle on top of a skyscraper. Halcyon reserved his grand gestures for things more directly connected to his business, like his tower and Fortress-2. But it was still a relatively secure and sturdy penthouse with an impressive enough security system and decoratively-shaped metal bars on the windows despite being high enough that most people wouldn’t be able to reach them. The only ways in were through the front door or the modest rooftop garden entrance. Since unlike some people, Halcyon didn’t want to include a helipad on his home and could simply extend a ramp to board Fortress-2 should he desire direct access. The penthouse should have been a relatively secure location.

But when they landed on the rooftop garden, Xanatos could see signs of someone breaking in. A panel by the door had been removed and wires were poking out, hinting that they’d taken the time to hack into the security system. And there were scratches around the actual lock from someone physically picking it.

A cold rage burned beneath the calm and collected surface. His wife and child were here. Someone was after his family. This invasion wasn’t Raven directly, but he knew about it. He was involved. And he’d threatened Alex.

Xanatos needed to find them. He needed to track them down inside and make sure that they were safe. Once he was certain that they were protected, he could focus on handling the rest. Not just ensuring that Raven and the intruders were no longer threats, though he would certainly take care of that. Several possible plans for removing the trickster from play were already forming at the back of his mind. But Xanatos would also be able to focus on Owen.

He couldn’t think about it right now. Not while he, Goliath, Brooklyn, and Angela were stalking through the penthouse in search of his family or the intruders. He needed to prioritize his actions and compartmentalize everything. He couldn’t afford distractions or mistakes.

But even as he tried to remain focused on finding Fox and Alex, he couldn’t completely ignore the sickening memory of a falling Owen slamming into the courtyard. The fog disappeared just in time to witness the plunge, the impact, and the collapsing stone wall. Enough time to watch, but not enough to stop it from happening. And that kind of helplessness was gut-wrenching. There was very little that he couldn’t change or affect and he hated every time he encountered something beyond his power. And Owen falling from a deadly height and crashing roughly at a dangerous speed turned out to be one of those things. Because Raven ensured that Xanatos was too far away and there wasn’t enough time to react.

He hated the situation. But there was nothing that he could do about it. Not yet. Xanatos could only trust that Elisa would live up to her word. She would have to handle Owen while he made certain that Fox and Alex were safe. That was all that he could do. He needed to focus on what he still had the power to affect.

Muffled shouts and a loud _thump_ broke the silence. The gargoyles fell into combative stances at the sounds while Xanatos responded by moving, metal armor _clanging_ as he raced towards the disturbance. Past the other doors, including one with a blanket half-dragged out of the room. He burst through the doorway into the library, weapon armed and ready.

The scene wasn’t as bad as he feared. He’d caught the aftermath. Books, a chessboard, and assorted tranquilizer guns were scattered across the floor as clear signs of the earlier struggle. One bookshelf had been knocked over completely from the wall. There were several unconscious figures dressed in black, each one sprawled limply. A few cybots hovered over them, prepared to fire if they woke up. Halcyon was near one of the half-empty shelves still standing, Vogel sitting on the floor next to him with an icepack to his head and a pained expression. And a furious Fox had the one conscious intruder pinned against the window, a small particle beam accelerator under his chin.

Xanatos is fairly certain she didn’t leave home with any energy weapons, so he was assuming it was either stolen from the intruders or else Halcyon shared his tendency to plan for all contingencies.

At least Fox wasn’t hurt. Hair mussed from the fighting and a spot on her jaw that was red from someone managing to land a blow, but nothing worse than what they might end up from an energetic sparring session. Some of the tension that Xanatos hadn’t noticed forming grudgingly loosened its grip on his chest.

“Where _is_ he?” she snarled, the weapon humming quietly as it powered up.

Pulling his helmet off, Xanatos said, “You know people can answer questions better when you don’t shoot their heads off.”

Her head snapped around to face him as soon as he started speaking, though the weapon never budged. She quickly took note of the new arrivals, both Xanatos and the gargoyles crowding into the room. Then Fox redirected her death glare back towards the cringing man in her grip.

“They broke in here. A whole group of them,” she growled murderously. “Knocked out Vogel with a blow to the head from behind. Tried to tranq us after that.”

“It might have hurt less if they used tranquilizers on me as well,” said Vogel, wincing as he shifted the icepack.

“And while most of these cowards were in here,” she snapped, “the rest were kidnapping _Alex_.”

As she slammed the man against the window hard enough to rattle the glass, that cold feeling sharpened. They were too late. Just like Raven said. They stole away his child before he even realized what was happening. And that could not be allowed. If he refused to allow Oberon to claim Alex, then he certainly wouldn’t allow human mercenaries to keep his son.

Though it did beg the question… What was the connection between these hired thugs and the trickster? There had to be one. The obvious answer was that Raven recruited them to do his dirty work, but that didn’t seem to fit the style of Oberon’s Children. Why would Raven hire someone to kidnap Alex when he could have done it himself? To avoid something that could be considered direct interference? But if that was the reason, why would he attack the Eyrie Building? Especially when he obviously knew that Alex wasn’t there? What was his angle?

“Why would you agree to take someone’s child from them like this?” asked Angela. “Why would you agree to such a cruel and heartless thing?”

“Money is powerful motivation,” said her father. “Money and gold has always held sway over humans. That has never changed.”

“I suggest you tell us exactly where your team took our son, what you have planned for him, and who hired you,” said Xanatos coldly. “And if you don’t tell us everything that you know immediately, you will quickly regret that decision. I can promise you _that_ much.”

Looming in a way that only a tall and powerful gargoyle could manage, Goliath growled, “The boy was under our protection and we will not tolerate children being torn away from heir families. Not even Xanatos deserves such a thing.”

That was almost friendly and heartwarming by their standards. But Xanatos’s focus remained on the sole conscious member of the mercenary group. His helmet had been torn away at some point, which meant that Xanatos could see his wide and frightened eyes. The man’s gaze kept dashing from Xanatos in his gargoyle-influenced exo-suit armor, the trio of actual gargoyles behind him, and Fox with the weapon jammed under his chin. And he seemed more terrified of Fox than the powerful creatures of myth and legend. A wise decision.

“Doyle,” croaked the mercenary. “Pat Doyle.”

“The politician?” asked Halcyon.

“He hired us,” he continued. “The job was supposed to be simple. Retrieve the target and hand him off. No one was to be harmed. I swear, we weren’t supposed to hurt you or the kid. I figured it was supposed to be a ransom thing. Get your financial or corporate support behind his campaign or something like that. Didn’t ask for the details.”

That was mildly reassuring. If the orders were to bring Alex unharmed, then he should be safe until they could get him back. Regardless of whether the true purpose was Doyle wanting ransom or Raven trying to stir up trouble, Alex would be safe for now. Xanatos could mentally eliminate a few more horrifying possibilities from the list. That didn’t change the fact that he intended to get Alex back as soon as possible.

And there was a decent chance that he would burn down any obstacle between him and his son.

“Where did Doyle tell you to take Alex?” asked Fox. “We need the location, security, number of forces to expect, and any time frames involved. And if you even think of leaving anything out, I swear I will drop you off the building because _no one_ takes my son and gets away with it.”

Xanatos tried not to flinch at the mental image that she’d just conjured. Especially with the injured Preston Vogel, the mirror image of a dark-haired Owen, sitting in plain sight. The entire train of thought that it created should be avoided. It was unproductive at the moment. Prioritize and compartmentalize. He couldn’t afford to think about what happened to Owen until they got Alex back.

But there was one thing that he needed to take care of first. He was already indebted in ways that he could never repay for his son’s sake. And while he was almost certain that they would help regardless, he needed to do this right. Otherwise there might come a night where he would ask for their help and it wouldn’t come. He couldn’t afford to burn those bridges again; they were too valuable a resource and not worth the trouble of having them as enemies again.

“You and your clan are under no obligations to help me save Alex,” said Xanatos, turning towards Goliath as the traumatized mercenary spilled all of his secrets to Fox. “You don’t owe me anything and you’ve already risked your lives to protect him before. But if—”

“If you intend to try manipulating us to agree to help, don’t waste your time.” Goliath crossed his arms, his expression stern. “I already told you that you and Fox don’t deserve to have your child stolen away. We will help rescue him.”

Nodding Brooklyn added, “Besides, Lexington would never forgive us if something happened to Alex while he was gone. Let’s not risk it.”

* * *

“You didn’t tell us enough about the job. A simple in-and-out retrieval? Not even close. Three-fourths of our team were taken down by the mother and the old man in the wheelchair.”

“That sounds more like a failure on your part than mine,” said Doyle. “Will your men talk?”

“They’re professionals.”

Which meant that they wouldn’t reveal who hired them unless they were offered more money or their lives were seriously threatened. And they were experienced enough that they didn’t scare easily. Doyle could read between the lines. Of course, Xanatos was extremely rich. Bribing his way to answers was a distinct possibility.

They weren’t meeting in Doyle’s office. He wasn’t that stupid. Doyle chose a semi-isolated warehouse owned by one of his father’s shell companies. There were stacks of wooden crates filled with imported furniture and occasionally used for smuggling. And while there were usually a couple of guards on duty, they were taking the night off with pay. The holidays provided a good excuse. There was no one on site except Doyle, the three mercenaries who made it out, and the fussy baby laid out on a blanket in the middle of the concrete floor.

The entire situation didn’t go as smoothly as the plan that he’d discussed with Ray. They weren’t supposed to lose the majority of the hired mercenaries, which could theoretically lead back to Doyle. But at least Xanatos and those gargoyles didn’t show up. Ray managed his part of the distraction apparently. And as long as his partner in this endeavor played his part right, they might be able to salvage things.

Now it was simply a waiting game. Ray planned to meet them there. Doyle would hand over the baby to him, someone unconnected that Xanatos couldn’t track down or trace to Doyle. He could bribe or threaten the mercenaries all that he wanted, but it wouldn’t help Xanatos find his son. Which meant he would still have to give into Doyle’s demands. Otherwise Xanatos would never get the baby back from Ray. As soon as little Alexander Xanatos was in Ray’s possession, the plan would be on track again.

Overall, the kid was relatively well-behaved. While the baby was whimpering and whining, he wasn’t wailing at deafening levels. Doyle was thankful for that much. His ears wouldn’t ever forgive him if he was stuck in the warehouse with a screaming infant for a few hours. A relatively quiet, but tear-streaked baby wasn’t as bad.

Of course, the smartest option would be to let the mercenary team meet up with Ray and hand over the boy without Doyle setting foot in the warehouse. That would minimize his involvement and make it more difficult to track the crime back to him. But he didn’t want to risk getting cut out of the plan. He wasn’t just some middleman. He needed to protect his investment.

He glanced around their corner of the warehouse again. Of the three remaining mercenaries, Doyle didn’t remember their names. One was their leader, the woman was the security system specialist, and the third member was the one who actually grabbed the kid. It wasn’t much of a defense compared to what Doyle expected to be guarding him at this stage of things, but it would offer some protection if Ray betrayed him or Xanatos tracked them down first. Enough that he might be able to slip away unharmed if things went wrong.

“How long until your man gets here?” asked the mercenary closest to the whimpering baby, the man leaning back against a stack of crates.

Doyle glanced at his watch and said, “Hopefully not too much longer. Assuming that nothing went wrong with the distraction at the Eyrie Building.”

“Good,” said the woman in the corner. “Because if we’re here too long, I am _not_ changing any diapers.”

* * *

Ever since that Halloween party at the Eyrie Building, Dr. Sato had learned that the world was far bigger and stranger than he’d ever dreamed. Enough that he was starting to wonder if he should study some basic veterinary medicine to supplement his knowledge.

He had to adapt. Gargoyles weren’t exactly human and while some forms of treatment clearly translated easily, it wasn’t inconceivable that certain aspects of their anatomy might have a closer analogue within the animal kingdom. And then there were the mutates. They may have started as humans, but they now demonstrated far more clearly their animal traits. Dr. Sato might wish that Maggie would go visit a proper OB/GYN, but he knew that he would eventually end up delivering her child because no one else could be trusted or could adapt to treating hybrids.

His life had certainly taken a strange turn lately.

But most nights remained the same. Treating the usual assortment of patients that were brought from ambulances to the operating room. Victims of car crashes, gunshot wounds, drunken accidents, assaults, suicide attempts, and general mishaps of varying severity. As always, he was left trying to save broken and battered lives when circumstances seemed determined to end them. It was something familiar among the strangeness. And Dr. Sato always felt better with every soul that survived because of his efforts. He might not be able to save everyone, but he preserved more lives than he lost and that was enough to keep him going most nights.

When Detective Elisa Maza called him shortly after he got a small break during his shift, Dr. Sato expected something atypical and strange to swiftly follow. Like the gargoyles, the mutates, or something else new. What he didn’t expect was someone to stealthily drop off a patient on the stretcher of a parked ambulance. While a little odd, it wasn’t as weird as it could have been. The patient that they wheeled in seemed human.

Well, except for the stone hand. But thanks to Maza’s phone call, Dr. Sato had the already-made excuse that Xanatos Enterprise was testing some specialized prosthetics for their employees and he could get the rest of the surgical staff to focus on more important things.

The patient clearly suffered from falling from a great height, some of staff muttering brief theories about him jumping out a window even as they prepared quick x-rays and started cutting away the ruined suit. The damage from such falls always reminded Dr. Sato of car crash victims. Bodies in both cases suffered from the effects of high-velocity impacts. The main difference was that the forces involved in car crashes traveled horizontally through the victim and those involved with falling from great heights traveled vertically through the body. But Dr. Sato noticed that while most of the damage matched a fall, some seemed more like crush injuries.

The mental list of injuries didn’t take long to grow once they brought him to the operating room. And the full extent of the damage meant triaging the wounds. The various lacerations and contusions were lesser concerns. And Dr. Sato could barely spare much thought about which bones in his legs and pelvis were fractured or how badly. The fractured left clavicle was a similar situation. Those were issues for later. He just noted them on the quick x-ray before moving on. The lumbar spine fractures that _might_ lead to partial paralysis or _might_ eventually heal properly and the rib fractures that could easily puncture the internal organs were the more dangerous broken bones currently.

Then there was the damage to the soft tissues. Lung contusions, internal bleeding caused by the forces involved battering and tearing the various organs due to impact, and the hemothorax were good examples of that. The last thing that the patient needed was blood collecting between the chest wall and the lungs. His blood pressure was already dangerously low from blood loss, his breathing was unreliable before they managed to secure his airway, and his heart had stopped once before he even reached the operating table. Dr. Sato would prefer to avoid a second cardiac arrest since the more times the heart stopped, the harder it became to resuscitate a patient.

While the entire surgical staff were focused on various tasks to stabilize the patient, including restoring blood flow to the partially crushed leg and managing blood _loss_ , Dr. Sato was specifically working on the foreign body currently embedded in the patient’s abdomen. A jagged and long piece of metal that had slid between damaged ribs. He needed to carefully extract it and repair the deep laceration it caused. Because the patient was bleeding too much, even if most of it was internal. And once the metal was removed properly, he could focus on getting the liver to stop hemorrhaging blood.

Because while he was losing blood from a variety of places, his liver was currently bleeding the worst and it would be nice if they could get his blood pressure to stop dropping and for the blood transfusions to stop trying to immediately pour out of the patient. That would make Dr. Sato very happy. It would certainly help things.

The nurse standing near him carefully wiped his brow. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been in surgery so far, but they weren’t done yet. His patient wasn’t making this easy. Honestly, he was lucky that he survived long enough to reach the operating table. Dr. Sato would give credit to whoever helped Maza get the patient there so quickly.

Where he was _less_ lucky was that there hadn’t been any neurosurgeons in the building at the time of his arrival and it took time for the one on call to make it back to the hospital. Holiday traffic at its worst. And Dr. Rivera was certainly doing her best to help now that she was present, but the situation wasn’t ideal.

Either the fall or whatever caused the crush injuries also managed to give the patient a traumatic brain injury. And with a TBI came a long list of dangers. Starting with the issue of controlling the intracranial pressure caused by swelling. The decompressive craniectomy should help with that and help minimize further damage from the pressure, but Dr. Sato had known Dr. Rivera for a long time. And he knew that the way her brow furrowed meant that the injury was one of the more severe ones. And with traumatic brain injuries, patients generally either recovered enough to live on their own again or they died. There was rarely any middle ground. And Dr. Rivera clearly didn’t like his chances.

There were so many factors working against the patient. So many different injuries that individually could either kill or severely limit his quality of life. Combined together, his prognosis was grim. And the human body could only take so much stress, trauma, and damage before everything crashed. But no one was giving up just yet. They just needed to get him stabilized and up to the ICU.

“His BP and heart rate are dropping again.”

Dr. Sato bit back some sharp words. They’d just managed another transfusion. He was almost done with the deep laceration in his liver and they’d gotten the hemothorax under control. That meant there was at least one more source where they were losing a large amount of blood fast. But since the bleeding was mostly internal, finding it was proving trickier than he liked. Which led to the blood pressure refusing to stabilize, which in turn led to the heart refusing to cooperate. He knew that they needed to find that other hidden source of severe bleeding before things got worse.

And then the heart monitor wailed at them as the patient slipped into his second cardiac arrest.

* * *

The human that Fox threatened into talking revealed a great deal of information before being restrained alongside his unconscious companions. Halcyon promised that he and Vogel would contact the authorities about the attack. The report would be somewhat altered to exclude the involvement of the Clan since they only arrived after the fight was over, but it should be accurate enough to ensure that they faced justice. And while the police dealt with those left behind, the Clan would hunt down Alex.

Goliath glided across the city with Brooklyn and Angela taking up positions slightly below and on either side of him. Xanatos flew a little further away with Fox in his arms. She’d stated immediately that she was coming with them. And since she didn’t have any wings of her own and they didn’t want to waste time with a helicopter, her only choice was to ride with Xanatos or one of the gargoyles. It wasn’t surprising that she chose her husband.

One arm wrapped around Xanatos’s neck and the other cradling the small energy weapon that she’d claimed from a hiding place in Halcyon’s library, Fox glared out into the night while the wind blew her hair back behind her. She was the very image of a warrior. Goliath knew that there was nothing as deadly as a clan defending their eggs. And for humans, that meant parents protecting their children would be just as vicious. Despite appearances to the contrary, Goliath knew that Fox would be more dangerous than most of them during the rescue. She would show no mercy.

“There it is,” called Brooklyn, pulling forward as he pointed.

“Be cautious with your approach. Don’t let them hear our arrival.” Goliath began to glide a little lower. “We need to locate Alex first and make certain that he is unharmed. We can’t risk them using him as a hostage when we move in.”

Slowing down, Xanatos said, “He’s right. And gliding is a lot stealthier than jets. Fox and I will keep back to preserve the element of surprise. We’ll follow after.”

Goliath gave him a short nod, acknowledging the trust that the man was putting in them. Then he headed down. The gargoyles landed as quietly as possible on the roof. Then they crept over to peer down through the skylight windows. The first step was to determine what they were facing inside and where Alex might be in relation to his captors.

“Four humans are down there with Alex,” said Angela.

“The three in black would be the other mercenaries.” Brooklyn leaned a little closer to the glass. “Which means the fourth one is probably the Pat Doyle person.”

“Reaching Alex and protecting him from harm is our first priority,” said Goliath. “Dealing with the mercenaries can come afterwards.”

They pried over the skylight, the humans startling slightly at the lock snapping. It was impossible to remain completely silent. But no one looked upwards. They just started checking around the corners of the wooden crates. Many humans rarely look for danger from above. The gargoyles used the opportunity to slip inside and climb across the metal rafters. Far above the humans and hidden in the shadows, where none bothered to look.

Alex was on a blanket in the middle of the small group. Too close to the other humans for comfort. If any of the gargoyles dropped down, they might be able to reach the boy and defend him from the kidnappers. Or the humans might snatch him up first. It would be better to wait until the closest of them stepped a little further away. Fighting against the small group wasn’t the challenge; it was keeping the baby safe in the process. A little patience to ensure that Alex wasn’t harmed in the process was their best course of action.

A sharp creak put the humans on alert again as their heads snapped back towards the door. Stepping inside the warehouse was Raven, looking exactly as he did on Queen Florence Island when Goliath, Angela, Bronx, and Elisa first encountered him. Doyle hurried over towards him.

“What took you so long?”

“I got bored,” he said with a shrug. “So I decided to have a little fun before we finished things up. Nothing really noteworthy, but entertaining. After all, it might be a while before I’m allowed to enjoy myself out here again. Might as well take advantage of it before I have to head home.”

“We’ve been waiting, Ray,” complained Doyle. “Your _brilliant_ plan got about three-fourths of the group captured. What are we supposed to do?”

Smirking, Raven said, “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. And it did work, right? Even with a few unexpected twists, my plan is working out fine. Assuming that you managed to collect the child despite your losses.”

“We have him,” he admitted, leading Raven towards the blanket.

Crouching down to look at the sniffling infant, Raven said, “Little Alexander Xanatos. Such a small one for someone with such potential. Don’t worry. You won’t be hurt and you’ll be where you belong soon enough.”

Quiet growling filled the rafters. Waiting would no longer aid them. They wouldn’t be moving away from Alex. And that meant the gargoyles had no choice except to risk it. Otherwise Raven would proceed to steal Alex away to Avalon. And they could not allow him to lay a hand on the child.

This time, there was no question about where the noise came from. Several heads turned upwards at the sound, faces pale and nervous. Most of the humans looked completely terrified as they caught glimpses of what lurked above. Glowing eyes in the darkness tended to unnerve them. But before anyone could react further, three winged figures dropped down.

They targeted the mercenaries first since they had actual weapons. And they were more likely to accidentally hurt the child. Goliath’s landing knocked one of them off his feet, earning a terrified and furious shout. He grabbed his target roughly before throwing the human to crash into the crates. Wood splintered apart.

Angela and Brooklyn were seconds after him, tackling them roughly. One mercenary was knocked out cold immediately when her head hit the concrete. The other put up a bit more of a fight. And that forced Brooklyn to continue the fight, leaving him and his opponent to tumble to the far side of the stacks of crates. A couple more crashes and then silence followed.

But Goliath focused mostly on the remaining human and Raven. They were trying to take advantage of the chaos to get out of reach.

More concerning, however, was the fact that Alex was no longer on his blanket.

Doyle nearly made it to the exit, running rather than risk a confrontation. Unfortunately for the man, that plan didn’t last long. A strong kick sent him to the ground as Fox burst through the door. A second later, Xanatos crashed in through the skylight. His weapons were aimed at the last figure.

Raven. Who was holding Alex.

“Put our son down," growled Fox, glaring at Raven as she kept Doyle pinned in place with her foot on his throat. “You only get one warning.”

“And why would I do that?” he asked. He slowly gazed at her, Xanatos, Goliath, and Angela. “I have achieved everything that I intended with my visit and more than I expected. I have no reason to turn Alexander over and every reason to—”

Raven’s arrogant speech cut off suddenly as the ignored Brooklyn launched himself at Raven’s back. In an act of careful coordination, Brooklyn managed to knock him to the ground while yanking the baby free. Then he scrambled away with Alex in his arms. As soon as they were past him, Goliath placed himself as a barrier between Raven and the now laughing child. He even spread his wings to block Alex from sight.

“Stop this, Raven,” he roared. “Were you not forbidden to directly interfere with the affairs of mortals? Would kidnapping a child from his family not count?”

Climbing back to his feet and dusting himself off, Raven said, “I didn’t take him. Pat Doyle ordered it and then offered Alex to me. A decision that he made of his own free will.”

“You _used_ me,” shouted Doyle. “It was all a trick. I’m just an innocent party. I never intended any of this and you can’t prove that I had any idea of what Ray intended.”

That earned a sharp and annoyed glare from the trickster. Then his eyes started glowing.

“ _Ungrateful liar who is never right, Shall find his tongue held tight_ ,” he recited. “ _Silence is more valuable than gold, Since you cannot do as you are told._ ”

Doyle opened his mouth. Perhaps to declare his innocence further, to demand that Fox release him, or to ask what Raven was doing. But not a single sound emerged. Goliath wasn’t surprised. The Children of Oberon were infamous for their retaliation against perceived ingratitude. He doubted that Doyle would be speaking again anytime soon.

“And the deal with Oberon?” asked Xanatos, ignoring the now mute man and the trickster’s spell to focus on important matters. He stepped closer, reclaiming his son from Brooklyn and cradling him close to his metal-covered chest. “He gave his word that Alex could stay with us. Are you allowed to break his bargain for him?”

“I thought you were clever, human. _He_ has broken no vows. He made no promise that others would leave the child alone. In fact, he made it a condition of the deal that young Alexander must be protected. Those were the specific requirements for your deal with him. Protected and properly taught. As long as you keep your end of the bargain, Lord Oberon will leave the boy with you.”

“And Alex is protected,” said Goliath. “We have shown that to be true this night.”

“Which is why I will leave the boy for now,” he said with a shrug. “This part of the plan was only a secondary goal. Something that would have been nice, but not necessary. I have time. When you fail to uphold your end of the bargain, Alexander will be taken to Avalon where he belongs. And you can’t keep your part of the deal. Protecting him is not enough.”

“What do you mean that we can’t keep our end of the bargain?” asked Brooklyn.

“If there is no one in the mortal world left alive to tutor him, then the deal is broken.” Raven grinned viciously at them. “Why do you think that I visited the castle first? You can’t keep your end of the bargain without Puck. With him gone, Lord Oberon and Titania will claim Alexander before the new year.”

And with that, he transformed into a bird in a swirl of magic that immediately flew out of the warehouse. The distant caws quickly faded from hearing, leaving them to dwell on his parting words. Goliath could see the dark look pass across Xanatos’s face despite his best efforts. The implications were weighing heavily on him.

“Go, David,” said Fox gently.

She took Alex from him, though Xanatos didn’t relinquish his hold easily. The boy whimpered slightly as he pulled away from the smooth metal until he realized that it was his mother.

“If the gargoyles agree to stay,” she continued, “we’ll wait until the authorities arrive and I can tell them about the kidnapping. I don’t know what happened at home, but you can go check on Owen.” When he hesitated briefly, eyeing both his wife and child carefully as if they might be snatched away by someone else powerful, Fox added, “We’ll be fine. Promise. I’ll even play up the dramatics for the police when they show up. I haven’t gotten the chance to brush off my acting skills in a while and a terrified and sobbing mother should make quite the impact on them. We’ve got this under control, David. Go take care of whatever Raven did to Owen and our home.”

Xanatos nodded before taking flight through the skylight. Fox watched briefly, holding Alex close to her chest, before turning her attention back to where Goliath and the other gargoyles were dragging the unconscious mercenaries together. Even if they would need to withdraw when the police arrive, they could at least collect and restrain the humans first. They would have to pry Doyle out from underneath Fox’s foot eventually, but he seemed fine for the moment where he was. He didn’t seem inclined to escape.

“I’ll go find a phone. They probably have one at the security desk,” she said. “And after I call the police, someone better explain what Raven did at the Eyrie Building while these people were kidnapping Alex.”


	5. Christmas Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the bright side, Alex has been rescued and is safe now. That’s good. Unfortunately, things aren’t looking that great for Owen at the moment. Gravity is a cruel mistress. And the human body is fragile.

Xanatos returned to the Eyrie Building first. His logic was straightforward. If he wanted to be optimistic about the situation, then Elisa would have moved Owen to the infirmary inside and patched him up. If he was more realistic about things, then Owen wouldn’t be there and would be at the hospital instead. And when he landed at the castle, Xanatos found it empty and knew which option was true. But he couldn’t go to the hospital in his exo-suit armor without drawing attention. The detour home gave him a chance to change and arrange a ride.

Despite his preference for riding in his limos, he _did_ know how to drive. He didn’t like the idea of being completely dependent on others and it was a useful skill to have. But having someone else do it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry about traffic, parking, and other details that were a distraction that Xanatos refused to bother with in most cases. And especially right then.

But as a side effect of stopping at the castle first, it was nearing morning by the time that he set foot in the hospital. Not quite dawn, but early enough that it couldn’t be properly called night anymore. Only a handful of people were curled up in the chairs of the waiting room, nursing paper cups with stale coffee. Nurses in scrubs moved in complex patterns, hair slightly frizzed after long shifts handling their heavy workloads and some of them bearing dark circles under their eyes. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the most annoying manner possible. And a dark, heavy, and oppressive feeling clung thickly and weighed everyone down.

Everything about the place and the situation reminded Xanatos of when he was a boy and he didn’t enjoy the reminder.

“Xanatos.”

He turned. Since there were only a few people lingering in the waiting room outside of visiting hours, it wasn’t hard to spot the detective. She’d claimed one of the molded plastic chairs and an empty paper cup rested on the floor next to her. Elisa gave him a strained and sympathetic smile completely different than anything that she’d ever directed towards him. It wasn’t comforting.

“Were Fox and Alex all right?” she asked.

Taking the seat next to her and accepting the offered distraction, Xanatos said, “They are now. Raven formed a partnership with a few humans. They attacked my father-in-law’s penthouse and managed to kidnap Alex temporarily, but we managed to get him back. Raven didn’t even think that part of his plan would work. I’m certain he would have taken Alex to Avalon if it _did_ worked, but his intention was to nullify Oberon’s bargain.” He leaned forward with a tired sigh, elbows resting on his knees and his shoulders slumping as he stared ahead. “Do you know anything yet?”

“The last update was several hours ago,” she said, shaking her head. “After Broadway dropped him off outside the ER, they took him into surgery. Dr. Sato is in there with Burnett and he’s a good doctor. I’m sure if anyone can help him, Dr. Sato will. Until then, all we can do is wait and see. There’s nothing else we can do in the meantime.”

“Doing nothing isn’t my style. There’s always something I can do to change things.”

The words came out automatically. But he knew that she was right. At that moment, Owen’s fate was in another’s hands and Xanatos couldn’t help.

He didn’t like being back in a hospital, listening to the buzzing fluorescent lights and smelling the sharp sting of disinfectant. Even in a different hospital, in a completely different state, and decades later, some things never really changed. And that included the uncomfortable feeling of being helpless and the oppressive sense of death looming over the place.

It reminded him of sitting in another hospital when he was seven. They’d sat there for hours that morning due to an unexpectedly intense headache and nausea striking his mother, both strong enough to convince her to go to the Emergency Room despite her normal reluctance to waste money on such a minor concern. But the symptoms weren’t enough to worry the ER staff. So they sat in that room all morning with that antiseptic smell as they watched other patients with more obvious problems get filed in and out. Until his mother grabbed her head, struggling not to scream and tears streaming down her face. Then she collapsed to the floor in front of him.

That was enough to get the attention of the medical staff, but it was too late for them to do anything about it. A brain aneurysm. It ruptured in her head and not even being in a hospital was enough to save her. There had been no way to know it was coming. It was mere chance that she had any headache preceding it. Most of the time, it struck without warning. Death itself lurked in his mother’s head for an unknown amount of time before suddenly stealing her away. Xanatos watched it happen, powerless to stop it. And then he had to wait hours for his father’s fishing vessel to return, leaving him alone with strangers.

Someone tried to comfort him. Xanatos couldn’t remember who, but they spoke to the young boy who couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had happened. They told him that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t do anything wrong and that no one could have predicted what happened. That death came to everyone eventually and some things simply couldn’t be changed. In all honesty, they were about as comforting as Xanatos’s father when he arrived, heartbroken and furious, but they tried.

That didn’t alter his dislike at lingering in hospitals. For a place of healing, they would always have that lingering sense of death. Always waiting like a thief. One that almost no one could escape.

“Not exactly how I expected to spend Christmas morning,” said Elisa quietly.

Thankful for the distraction, Xanatos said, “No, I suppose not. Goliath mentioned plans to watch a movie with you. And you said that you intended to spend the day with your family.”

“The Maza Family Christmas.” She nodded as she shifted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position in the piece of molded plastic. “If I’m late, I’m sure Mom will forgive me if I give her a good enough reason.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“A friend had a couple of family emergencies back-to-back and it didn’t feel right leaving him in a hospital waiting room alone.”

Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, “Do we qualify as friends now?”

“Not normally, but maybe just this once. Blame it on the holiday spirit.”

Xanatos gave a quiet and breathy laugh at that. She wasn’t one to mince words. And he certainly appreciated that straightforwardness on occasion. Not always, but certainly when he needed a distraction from simply waiting.

“That doesn’t mean that I won’t arrest you someday if you cross the line again,” she added.

Smiling tiredly, Xanatos said, “I wouldn’t expect anything different.” He gestured towards the empty paper cup. “How bad is the coffee?”

“Like melted asphalt. Barely fit for humans to drink. I honestly didn’t think that coffee could be worse than what they had in the station. But if you’re desperate for caffeine, it’ll do the job.”

Her description wasn’t promising, but Xanatos strangely found himself contemplating it. A shot of caffeine would be nice. It had been a long and stressful night. And the adrenaline had worn off enough to let the weariness move in. He might need to risk the substandard coffee.

“Dawn probably isn’t too far away,” said Elisa after a moment. “Broadway told me that he’d stay close for a while, but he should be heading back to the castle by now.”

“And hopefully Fox is done speaking to the police and is taking Alex home,” he said. Xanatos looked away. “I should be there, but…”

“But they are safe. You can’t be in two places at once. Not without using one of your robots. Your family is safe now and they’ll be fine until you make it home.”

She was right. He knew that she was right. Raven was gone for the moment, Doyle and his hired guns would be in custody by now, and Fox wasn’t exactly a helpless damsel in distress. She and Alex would be fine. They didn’t need him at that moment.

Not that he was doing much to help Owen by sitting around the waiting room.

Movement drew his attention towards the doorway. Dr. Sato glanced around before spotting them. The man looked weary and rather grim. That didn’t bode well.

“Any news on Owen Burnett?” asked Xanatos as he stood up.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “They’re moving him up to the ICU. We’ve done everything that we could for him, but he experienced some serious trauma and his condition reflects that.” A little quieter, he added, “I shouldn’t assume, but he seems to be human.”

“For all intents and purposes, he is,” said Elisa.

Before they could get sidetracked from the topic at hand, Xanatos asked, “How bad?”

“His left leg was essentially shattered, both by the impact and being crushed by a heavy weight. That might need more work later to properly heal. Fractures along the pelvis and lower spine. That could cause some level of paralysis, though we won’t be able to determine that for a while. Multiple broken ribs and his left clavicle was fractured. He had extensive internal bleeding, numerous contusions, and a variety of lacerations. The deepest one punctured his liver.” His clinical tone still held some sympathy. “He coded twice and the second time took longer to resuscitate, though his heart rate is stable at the moment. And then there is the traumatic brain injury. We won’t know the extent of the damage or how permanent it will be until the swelling goes down.”

Xanatos didn’t react to his careful list of injuries. He just silently collected the information and tried to remain calm. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but Xanatos picked up a few things. Enough to put together the grim picture that Dr. Sato was painting.

“And what are his chances of recovery?” he asked, his voice steady despite the situation.

“Any of his injuries alone might be survivable, but together…” Dr. Sato shook his head tiredly. “The next twenty-four hours will be crucial. It might be wise to contact any available family that he has. In case they need to say goodbye.”

The tightness in his chest made it difficult to concentrate. He had never considered the option that Owen’s promised lifetime of service might end like this. And now he might be gone by nightfall. Snatched away by a mortality that should have never ensnared him.

“Owen… doesn’t really have any family. The Children of Oberon isn’t meant literally,” he said quietly. “He just has us.” Giving Dr. Sato a firm look that allowed no arguments, Xanatos said, “I intend to go up and see him.”

Dr. Sato hesitated a moment with a distracted expression. As if he was trying to interpret what the Children of Oberon meant. Then he shook his head and focused on them again.

“We don’t like letting too many visitors into the ICU at a time, but I can take you one at a time if you like,” he said.

“I’ll wait down here,” said Elisa.

Xanatos gave her a short nod before following Dr. Sato towards the elevator. The trip up was silent and then they followed the quiet halls. Dr. Sato paused briefly at the nurse station to ask a few quiet questions. Then he headed towards one of the rooms.

“They just settled him into the room. And I promise that they’ll be keeping a close eye on him and give him the best care possible. You can see him briefly, but you shouldn’t stay too long,” said Dr. Sato gently. ‘He was in surgery for most of the night and he’s still in a fragile state.”

The doctor let him enter the room alone. Xanatos was grateful for that. He didn’t have to school his features quite as much. He wasn’t certain what he was feeling in that moment, let alone what he wanted to portray to the world. Looking in the room just left him a little numb and cold.

Owen lay in the bed, still and silent. The top half of his head was wrapped in gauze and what little flesh that could be seen was either deathly pale or else darkened and swollen by bruising. Most of his body was hidden by gauze, the plain hospital gown, and the thin blanket, but further cuts and bruises clearly ran along his body. His stone hand rested in a slightly raised sling, likely to take the weight off the broken collarbone. And while Xanatos couldn’t see much under the blanket, the rough shape told him that they had stabilized the broken leg.

Adding to the disconcerting state of Owen’s appearance was the equipment attached to him. Wires and tubes wove around his battered form. An IV dripped fluids into him. Possibly simple liquids to prevent dehydration or perhaps medication. Another line seemed to be delivering another blood transfusion. They had hooked Owen to a ventilator, resulting in a breathing tube down his throat to help support and maintain what should be a fairly basic instinct. Even breathing was something that he couldn’t do without assistance now. And slow beeping came from the monitor that carefully tracked his heart rate, blood pressure, and various other vital stats. Reducing his life down to a series of numbers.

He barely looked like Owen. He barely even looked alive.

That’s what bothered Xanatos the most. How completely lifeless and broken Owen looked in that hospital bed. Completely unlike the man that he’d known for years. He’d been reduced to something fragile. Something that could be taken away so easily.

His heart had already stopped twice. And Dr. Sato didn’t seem confident that it wouldn’t happen again. It seemed more like the doctor believed that it would be best to prepare for the upcoming loss. They did everything possible to fix him and it may not even be enough.

Puck should have lived for thousands of years more, but Owen was as fragile and mortal as any human. And being trapped in that state was solely Xanatos’s fault. Owen was stuck as a powerless mortal because he chose Xanatos and his family. And that led directly to his current state.

It reminded Xanatos of when the Eye of Odin transformed Fox and her metamorphosis nearly burned her out like a lightbulb, the increased metabolism devouring her energy faster than she could survive. It reminded him of when Oberon came for Alex, plowing through every defense that they tried. It reminded him of every time that something tried to claim someone important and snatch them away from him. But in those cases, Xanatos could still face those challenges. He could plan, fight, and resist the forces trying to take everything away.

Not this time. Death already had a firm grip, ready to pull Owen the rest of the way into oblivion. And that wasn’t something that Xanatos could currently fight.

He stood next to the hospital bed, trying to press down the tight pressure trying to form in his throat and in his chest. He closed his eyes tightly and his hands curled into fists at his sides. The feeling of powerlessness was inescapable.

 _No_.

He was _not_ powerless. He was David Xanatos. Everything that he had, he had done it himself. His money, power, influence, connections, knowledge, and especially his family were all gathered, earned, or built by his own abilities, skills, and determination. There was _nothing_ beyond his ability to change.

Maybe traditional science and medical treatment had reached its limits. But Xanatos had other resources at his disposal. Things that none of the doctors in the hospital had even dreamed of. There had to be something that could help. Something that could keep Owen alive. Something that—

An idea finally made it through the unpleasant emotion-fueled fog that had been trying to smother his brain since Dr. Sato delivered the grim assessment. A chance. A possible way to save Owen. Xanatos opened his eyes and straightened slightly. The tiniest margin for success, but it existed. It was a weak plan, but it was more than he had before. And Xanatos could achieve a lot when he had a plan.

“I’ll be back, Owen,” he said quietly. “There’s a chance to help you. It’s back at the Eyrie Building. All you need to do is hold on until I make it back.”

He knew that Owen almost certainly wouldn’t hear those words. People hearing friends and family while comatose always seemed too fanciful to be true. And yet Xanatos couldn’t help it. A brief moment of sentiment born of concern.

Then, giving the still figure one final look and ignoring the way that the sight made him ache deeply, Xanatos stepped away from the hospital bed. And he slipped back out of the room.

“Dr. Sato,” he said, his tone calm and firm. “You told me that his injuries are survivable on an individual level. None of them is guaranteed to be fatal alone. Is that true?”

“It is important to have hope,” began Dr. Sato carefully, “but I wouldn’t—”

“A simple yes or no,” he interrupted, eyes narrowing. “Are any of the injuries specifically fatal? Specifically and completely guaranteed to be fatal with no chance of survival?”

Shaking his head, Dr. Sato said, “No. Not guaranteed and not alone. But that doesn’t mean that—”

“Thank you. Then I’ll be back later.” Xanatos glanced him over, taking in the various details of his current state. “Your shift is probably over, doctor. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

Xanatos walked away before Dr. Sato could respond further. He’d paid attention earlier and could easily retrace his steps back to the elevator despite the hospital giving every indication of being designed by someone who wanted a to build a labyrinth instead. Xanatos didn’t have time for further niceties. He was working against the clock. A clock with an unknown amount of time left on it, but one that he couldn’t afford to let run out.

“Hey,” called Elisa as soon as the elevator doors opened again. “You okay?”

He gave her a brief wave of dismissal, acknowledging her existence without truly stopping as he stalked towards the exit. He didn’t have time for a long discussion or what was bound to be an awkward attempt to comfort him. Because she would. Despite their differences, the detective wasn’t cruel. But platitudes wouldn’t help Owen. The only thing that might was currently waiting back home, hidden in a safe for an emergency.

Unfazed by the brushoff, she asked, “Is there anything that I can do to help?”

He paused and considered her words. And he considered the specific requirements of what he was about to retrieve. Then Xanatos glanced towards her.

“If you want to help, you can give me a lift. I need to make a short stop at home to pick up something and I might need your assistance when I return here afterwards.”

* * *

Elisa didn’t regret the rather disgusting cup of coffee. It helped stave off the weariness gnawing at her as they drove through morning traffic. The sky was just gaining that early pink hue around the edges, but it was not quite bright enough for the other cars to turn off their headlights. She’d originally expected to catch a few hours of sleep before seeing her family. Her body demanded that she follow that plan. But Elisa knew that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. The caffeine was the only thing keeping her going currently.

She’d turned the radio on, though she kept the volume low. It was a decent distraction and background noise. It prevented things from truly developing into an uneasy silence. And it let them skip awkward conversations. She was running out of things to say. They were just starting to work on peaceful interactions with the truce in place. This was on a completely different level. What exactly was she supposed to say to the man that she spent the last few years trying to arrest because of his various crimes? Especially when it sounded like Burnett might not survive.

His job title might be Xanatos’s assistant, but Elisa wasn’t blind during the last several years. She’d seen them interact. And you don’t sacrifice your magic and the ability to return to your home for your boss. Whatever they were, they were friends at a minimum. She couldn’t define them further than that. But she did honestly hope that whatever plan Xanatos had in mind worked. From what Dr. Sato said, Burnett needed something more than doctors could give him.

Since the conversation remained sparse, she listened to the radio. A little Christmas music mixed in with weather and news reports. And between another round of “Jingle Bells” and “Winter Wonderland” was a news report that mentioned the name Xanatos, prompting her to turn up the volume.

According to the radio, Alexander Xanatos was kidnapped from the home of Halcyon Renard, his grandfather and the founder of Cyberbiotics. The kidnappers, hired by the politician and future mayoral candidate Pat Doyle, were apprehended by the police after a tip from the child’s mother. And the news report made certain to point out that Alex’s parents were David Xanatos of Xanatos Enterprises and Fox formerly of the television show “The Pack,” both of whom were also convicted criminals who spent time in prison. At least _someone_ remembered their crimes. Elisa could fill in the blanks of the events where Goliath and the others fit in. She did notice a brief smirk from Xanatos when the report mentioned that Pat Doyle had made no comment so far.

“He probably won’t be commenting on anything for a while,” said Xanatos. “It isn’t wise to upset a trickster.”

Remembering Puck cursing Demona to regularly transform into the species that she hated the most, Elisa said, “I’ve noticed.”

She wasn’t certain how she was always lucky enough to find a parking space right in front of the building. She wouldn’t be surprised if security occasionally chased people off to keep one clear for certain regular visitors who didn’t have their own personalized parking spots. And if that was true, then she apparently qualified. Regardless, Elisa pulled her car in front of the building and Xanatos was stepping out of the vehicle before she properly put it into park.

“I need to check on Fox and Alex first,” he said, not even waiting for her to catch up as he crossed the lobby. “If you truly want to help, meet me in the infirmary afterward.”

Elisa gave a short nod. That should be easy enough. She’d been there before. And she wouldn’t want to intrude on a family moment anyway.

The elevator ride was silent and fast. As soon as they reached the castle, Xanatos vanished down one of the halls. Elisa took a brief moment to step outside to check that all the gargoyles made it back. Just for her own peace of mind. But even with the brief detour, she made it to the infirmary first.

A couple of minutes of waiting and Xanatos walked in, looking both more and less tense than he did earlier.

“Your family all right?” she asked.

“I don’t think that Fox is going to sleep easily for a while unless one of us is in the same room as Alex, but they’re fine.” Stepping over to what looked like another blank stone wall of the original castle, Xanatos said, “The magic involved in what I’m retrieving is… finicky. Don’t bother asking questions on the way back because I won’t be answering them. Not if this is going to work.”

He pressed something and the stone slid away to reveal a safe with a keypad. Leave it to Xanatos to hide a safe in an infirmary. A few quick keystrokes produced an electronic _chirp_ and then a _click_.

“And there’s no chance of it ending up like Fox and the Eye of Odin, right?” she asked.

Pulling open the door, Xanatos said, “This is not nearly as powerful. Merely difficult to obtain. Unspoken Water is intended to be used immediately. Finding someone capable of both collecting it and then figuring out a way to store it was… time-consuming and expensive.”

“Unspoken Water?”

Xanatos gestured towards the contents of the safe. Elisa could see a small glass vial of liquid with a cork stopper. It didn’t look impressive and the liquid inside was clear, looking exactly like ordinary water. Not shining or glowing or shimmering with unusual colors. If Xanatos didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t have guessed that it was anything special.

“Water with certain healing properties when drank. Not enough to instantly heal any wound or illness. It won’t regrow missing limbs or fix old injuries. And it won’t heal someone with fatal wounds or terminal diseases. But if there is a chance of survival, it will ensure that they will heal and that their wounds or illness will eventually heal completely. Faster than normal, but not fast enough for people to immediately assume magic. It won’t even leave scars,” he described, not yet reaching for it.

He stared at the vial. As if it contained something precious. Which it clearly did. If what Xanatos was saying was true, then it contained something that could be the difference between life and death for Burnett.

“There are some preparations involved. Spells and such beforehand that I don’t have and can’t find the proper records about. And very few people remember that knowledge and even fewer would be willing to share. But the more commonly shared part of the process involves collecting water ‘from under a bridge, over which the living pass and the dead are carried, brought in the dawn or twilight to the house of a sick person, without the bearer speaking, either in going or returning.’ The person that I paid collected extra on their journey to heal someone, more than they would need for their patient, and gave me the excess afterwards. It seemed like a wise investment for my infirmary even if I could only obtain a small amount.”

“And that’s why you agreed to let me help,” she said. “Not being allowed to speak while transporting it? You need me to be your voice in case we run into someone while you’re sneaking in a magic potion.”

“I always knew that you were smart, detective. It was collected and transported here in silence. Now it just needs to be taken the rest of the way. And hopefully it is still close enough to dawn to count.”

And with that, Xanatos picked up the small glass vial and carefully tucked it into his jacket pocket. Then, hesitating a moment with a thoughtful frown, he walked over to one of the cabinets of medical supplies. He plucked an empty capped syringe and added it to his pocket. Xanatos turned towards Elisa and gave her a short nod.

“Time for another awkward drive in silence,” she muttered under her breath before following him back out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing from the very first chapter coming back with a possible solution. Tiny sliver of hope for Owen.


	6. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate the comments that I’ve received on this fic. I know it isn’t a huge fandom anymore since the series came out in the 90s. So I am thankful for anyone who leaves a comment.
> 
> Oh, and while it should be fairly obvious, do not take medical advice from fanfiction.

She didn’t know what she expected Burnett to look like after surgery. Elisa didn’t know if she would describe it as better or worse than before on first glance. On the one hand, he was no longer sprawled in a pool of blood. But now the bruises had properly developed, turning dark, colorful, and swollen. And the fluorescent lights made the injuries much easier to see than they were on the skyscraper just after sunset. The breathing tube, IV, and assorted lines and wires made the man look more fragile. And the slow _beeping_ reminded Elisa of her previous stay at the hospital.

That could have been her. She’d fallen off buildings multiple times, though she’d always been caught in time. Elisa fell from the castle the very first time that she met Goliath. Any of those falls could have landed her in the hospital just like Burnett. Or in the morgue. She’d seen plenty of dead bodies during her time as a cop and at least some of them involved someone falling or jumping from a great height. She didn’t appreciate the reminder of her own vulnerability. It wasn’t something that she wanted to dwell on, but looking at the battered figure made it hard to ignore.

Just like she couldn’t ignore the way that Xanatos briefly hesitated as they reached the room. As if bracing himself to face it again. Elisa might not know him the best, but she still picked up on that tension that he was trying to bury. Being a detective involved being observant.

It did take a moment for her to pay attention to more than Xanatos and Burnett. She’d noticed the two nurses checking over the patient immediately, but they were not as important initially. Elisa only made a mental note of their actions after her observations about Burnett’s condition.

There were two nurses, a man and a woman. Both in neat scrubs and relatively awake, meaning that they’d probably started their shift recently rather than being the staff who were on duty all night. One seemed to be adjusting the IV line, possibly just finishing switching out an empty IV bag for a new one. The other was writing something on his chart and leaning over a monitor by Burnett’s bed. After they finished their tasks, they glanced over at the new arrivals. Both nurses offered small reassuring smiles. But their expressions didn’t reach their eyes and didn’t keep Elisa from noticing their initial grim and resigned faces as they went through the motions of treating their patient.

“We can’t allow too many visitors at a time,” said the closest nurse.

Knowing that Xanatos couldn’t currently use his charismatic rich guy skills to charm them like he would usually do, Elisa stepped forward and said, “Dr. Sato told us we could have a moment with our friend.” She smiled apologetically. “If that’s all right? We won’t bother anyone else. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask Dr. Sato if he gave us permission.”

The nurses exchanged careful looks as Elisa waited patiently for their decision. Hopefully Dr. Sato would be smart enough to back up her story if they did ask. They were kind of stretching the permission a little. He only technically agreed to bring them up to see Burnett briefly after surgery, not come back later to attempt a magic potion or whatever Unspoken Water qualified as.

If claiming Dr. Sato’s permission didn’t convince the nurses, Elisa next idea was to pull out her badge and see if she could talk them into extending her a little leniency as a courtesy. Sometimes paramedics would be willing to work with her on small things since they ended up dealing with the same messes occasionally, though she doesn’t like to take advantage like that normally. And maybe the nurses would go along with it. At least long enough for Xanatos to pull off whatever he needed to do to make the Unspoken Water work.

She could keep the nurses busy if she needed to. Elisa knew how to play the distraction by now. She’d done it enough times to cover for the gargoyles. This would be far simpler.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to try anything else. One of the nurses eventually gave a sad smile and nodded at them.

“As long as you stay quiet and calm, you can stay for a little while. But if anything happens with him or we tell you to get out of the room, you’ll need to leave immediately. Understand?”

In case Burnett went into cardiac arrest or something else that threatened his survival. She could read between the lines.

“Thank you,” she said. “We won’t cause any trouble.”

“We’ll leave you and your husband alone with your friend then.”

Elisa couldn’t help sputtering and the horrified expression that swept across her face at the nurse’s words. She jerked away from him, as if hit by an electric jolt from his proximity. And from the way that Xanatos’s face twisted into a dozen different shocked expressions, he was struggling to remain silent.

That was the most horrifying thing that she’d ever heard and Elisa was dead certain that she was going to have nightmares about the very idea for _years_.

“He’s _not_ my husband,” she managed to say without gagging. “His wife is at home with their son.”

Looking a little embarrassed by his mistaken assumption, the nurses said, “My apologies.”

Xanatos waited until both of the nurses stepped out of the room before approaching the hospital bed. Elisa kept lookout at the door since they really didn’t need to be interrupted. She knew that magic could be finicky and dangerous. No reason to risk messing it up halfway through. Xanatos pulled the glass vial out of his pocket as his eyes lingered on the limp figure. Then he reached into the other pocket and dug out the capped syringe.

He uncorked the vial and then uncapped the syringe. While the motions weren’t as smooth or practiced as a professional nurse might do it, Xanatos drew up the water into the syringe and tapped it carefully as he got rid of the any air bubble. Next, he reached for the IV bag. Most of the plastic surface was clear and smooth, but there was a circle patch of tougher material. It was meant specifically for adding medication to the IV drip with a syringe. Which was exactly what Xanatos did, poking the needle through the circle of material and pressing down the plunger. And once empty, he pulled the syringe free and disposed of the needle in the appropriate container against the wall.

Taking a step back, Xanatos said quietly, “Unspoken Water is meant to be drunk by the person in need of healing. But between the breathing tube and being unconscious, I had to improvise. Hopefully the magic can adapt to being applied intravenously.”

“If moving the castle to the top of your skyscraper worked to break a curse, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said.

Xanatos reached for an electrode tucked slightly under the layers of gauze around Owen’s head. It rested on his temple with a wire stretching out to a monitor. The one that the nurse had been checking when they arrived. The lines on the screen didn’t move as much as she suspected that they should.

“I don’t think that they had this earlier,” said Xanatos. His voice was even and calm, though she wasn’t certain who he was meant to be addressing. “It makes sense though. They would want to monitor brain function after a head injury like that. There are a number of problems that can develop. Brain damage, seizures, a vegetative state…”

A couple of years ago, Elisa would have accused him of being cold as he described the possible side effects of Burnett’s injuries in a calm and detached tone. But a couple of years ago, she hadn’t seen him act just as calm and rational as he attempted to bargain for Goliath’s help in saving Fox’s life when the Eye of Odin was killing her. He wasn’t one to show his vulnerabilities.

Hands slipping into her pockets, Elisa asked gently, “Is there anything else that I can do to help? Even something small like get you some breakfast?”

Xanatos shook his head and settled into a chair next to the hospital bed. It wasn’t quite the plastic monstrosity that they had in the waiting room, but even the padded piece of furniture didn’t look very comfortable. That didn’t change the fact that he seemed to be settling in for a long wait. Elisa suspected that the nurses, doctors, and various other medical staff would have difficulty removing him. And there might be financial compensation in the form of generous donations or stocks in Xanatos Enterprises if that was what it took to stay.

“You’ve already done more than anyone would have expected from you, detective,” he said. “Go home. Sleep. Spend some time with your family. There’s nothing left to do except wait and see if the Unspoken Water works as promised.” When she didn’t immediately respond, Xanatos gave her a wry smile. “I’ll be fine. Fox will be here later. You don’t have to stay around babysitting me. The holiday spirit doesn’t oblige you to spend all of Christmas morning in awkward silence.”

Part of her argued that she really shouldn’t leave him alone with his thoughts. Especially when he kept glancing at Owen with an unreadable expression that she couldn’t properly define, but seemed oddly vulnerable for him.

But at the end of the day, they weren’t actually friends. They weren’t close. Not really. They were simply bound by some shared experiences, usually on opposing sides. That and the recent truce were the only things that they had in common.

She’d offered as much support as he was likely to accept. She’d done everything that she could. And maybe he wouldn’t put up as many shields if he didn’t have an audience. Maintaining that kind of façade in front of people could be exhausting and he would try to keep it up as long as she was around. If Fox would be joining him later, it might be better to leave him with the support system of his wife. She should be more help than Elisa could offer.

And in the end, she was _very_ tired. It was hard to resist his suggestion of going home and crawling into bed for a few hours.

“Let me know if anything happens,” she said finally.

Elisa lingered a moment longer, staring at the pair quietly. Then she stepped back into the hall. They would have to wait and hope that the magic worked. Until then, the best thing that she could do was get some sleep and see if she could be more useful when she wasn’t running off of fumes and bad coffee.

Though if she had dreams about some horrifying reality where she and Xanatos were _married_ …

* * *

 _Pain_.

That was his entire existence. He couldn’t think. His mind was fog and pain that tried to swallow him up. Individual thoughts resisted solidifying into anything tangible. All that mattered was the pain. An absolute agony without boundaries or end.

Cold iron. It must be cold iron. Nothing else could hurt so much. Puck didn’t know of any worse pain.

The agony moved like waves through him, a constant beat that surrounded him and penetrated through him. Like being trapped inside a ringing iron bell. Waves of sound or waves of agony; it made no difference.

The pain stabbed through him. Stabbing like sharp blades. Knives, swords, axes, and spears forged from cold iron. Cutting through the waves of agony with sharper and more precise pain.

Too strong. The pain felt too strong. Too strong for him to bear. Too strong for him to survive. None of the Third Race could. Not so much. It _had_ to be cold iron and Puck wasn’t strong enough to endure such a thing.

He wanted to escape the agony. To twist and pull away from the pounding, cutting, and screaming pain. But Puck couldn’t move. Bound and trapped in his body. Maybe even iron shackles. He couldn’t tell. His entire sense of self was drowning in pain. He was consumed by the waves of agony. There was nothing left of him except that endless pain.

He was nothing except absolute agony personified. And the pain consumed his energy, stealing away his strength. Too much. It was just too much. He couldn’t think and he couldn’t endure it. Puck was pulled back under, plunging into the sanctuary of complete unawareness.

…

…

…

When he resurfaced again, the mental fog and pain were waiting. But the unbearable agony felt pushed back. Held at a distance. Exhaustion remained, but the pain was no longer all consuming. Puck could start separating it out a little.

The pain wasn’t the burning cold bite of iron. It felt different. More mortal. Aching bruises, a pounding headache, and sharper and deeper pain that he couldn’t quite name yet. But pain that belonged to a mortal body. And that let him grasp a couple of memories from the last few years.

Owen, not Puck. The human identity that he created and chose for himself. A human body and human pain.

He couldn’t remember much more than that. He couldn’t think straight. His mind remained clouded by something that left his thoughts slow, numb, and clumsy. He didn’t like that. But his pain a little more distant. And if that was the cost of his agony being pushed away, he would happily accept it.

Pushing the pain away so that it no longer encompassed his entire world meant that he could finally notice a few other things at the edges of his vague awareness. An annoying _beeping_ and strange machine sounds. Rustling paper, the soft scratching of a pen writing, and a quiet and familiar murmur of a voice. A voice that Owen knew, but couldn’t focus on enough to remember. But he knew that it sparked a comforting feeling of _home_. Hearing it immediately reassured him in a way that he couldn’t explain, but welcomed.

More disturbing was the feeling of something strange and unnatural reaching into his mouth and down his throat. He wanted to gag and choke against the wrongness. But his body refused to respond to that instinctive reflex. Perhaps it had been there too long and his unconscious body had already surrendered. He wasn’t certain how he could even breathe with it. The strange object should have been in the way and suffocating him. Owen wanted it gone. The feeling of it inside him was wrong; the unnatural and unpleasant material didn’t belong in his throat.

He desperately wanted to reach for the foreign object and rip it out. What he actually managed was a slight twitch of his fingers, letting the tips slide along cheap cotton sheets a little bit. Not that impressive in the grand scheme of things. And certainly not helpful towards his goal.

He vaguely noticed that the familiar voice shifted, the focus turning towards him. Owen still couldn’t make out the words, but the cautiously hopeful tone was addressing him. He wished that he could understand what they were saying, but his strength was already slipping away.

Before consciousness could completely flee, Owen faintly sensed magic. Magic inside him. But he couldn’t recognize anything further before the waiting darkness swallowed him again.

…

…

…

He could tell that time passed before he grew aware of his surroundings again. He wasn’t sure how much time, but at least some. Not that much seemed to have changed in the interim. The beeping, the hum of machinery, and the distant pain all returned. As did the feeling of magic that he noticed before.

Owen knew magic. Almost better than he knew himself. After all, the Third Race were natural shapeshifters. It was hard to truly know yourself when you could easily change into someone completely new whenever you desire. At least, that was how it was until recently.

But magic was different. It was inescapable. It ran through them like how blood and sinew made up the mortals. Even with his magic locked away out of reach, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t born of magic and knew it in a way that only another member of the Third Race could truly understand.

What he felt wasn’t his own magic, trapped beyond his reach. This felt like a completely different form of magic moving through him like gentle soothing waves. It wasn’t a magic cast by one of Oberon’s Children. It came from a different source. Mortal magic. Foreign mortal magic wove through him. It felt temporary; a short-term spell instead of a permanent change. And it didn’t feel malicious. As long as it wasn’t making things worse, Owen had no problem ignoring its presence.

Besides, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He didn’t have access to his own magic. And even if he did and if he had the strength to attempt a spell, mixing magic was dangerous. It tended to backfire. Often explosively. Definitely not worth the risk.

He didn’t hear the familiar voice from before. The one that felt like _home_ , but didn’t remind him of Avalon or magic. Which was odd. Shouldn’t anything to do with _home_ feel like Avalon? It was the home of all the Third Race. Regardless, the voice wasn’t murmuring at the edges of his awareness. And part of him ached at the loss.

Then again, everything hurt. One more ache didn’t make a huge difference.

But there was a new sound to replace the voice. A new sound among the hum of machinery and the annoying beeping. An occasional rustle of paper. Not like before, which sounded like separate sheets of paper in someone’s hands. It sounded more like someone turning the pages of a book. Someone was next to him, quietly reading.

Unfortunately, the longer that he listened, the harder that it became to ignore certain unpleasant sensations. There were things attached to him. Itching, pinching, and poking into him at different points across his body. Small annoyances that served to contrast with the pain that was thankfully still held at bay. And the worst of the annoyances was the thing in his throat.

It was still there. Forcing his mouth open, pinning his tongue down, and irritating his throat constantly. Owen hated it. He couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable sensation of its presence. He vaguely suspected that the thick thing was some form of a tube, which was the only possible explanation for what he could breathe with it jammed into him. But he despised the thing. He wanted it gone.

Fingers twitched, brushing against those same cotton sheets again. He must still be in a bed since that was the most logical soft surface for him to be lying on. Moving his arm up towards his face seemed like an exhausting and impossible challenge, though Owen realized that his left arm was raised slightly off the bed compared to the other. He wanted to rip and tear the intruding object out of his throat, but he didn’t think that he could manage it. He was too tired and everything hurt.

But once again, the small movement was enough to attract attention.

“Owen? Are you trying to wake up?”

A very different voice spoke this time. But it was still a familiar one. One that reminded him of magic and was somehow connected to Avalon distantly, unlike the earlier voice. But not _from_ Avalon. Even with his mind wrapped in a thick numbing fog, he was certain of that much.

“Your timing needs work,” she said wryly. “I just convinced David to go home and finally get some proper rest. Sleeping in a chair isn’t exactly good idea long term.”

There was a slight sound of something shifting. Like she was moving closer or changing her position.

“Of course, the only reason that he agreed was because you were showing some actual improvement. The swelling in your brain went down enough that the doctor could detect slightly more reliable brain activity. So good news. You didn’t end up brain dead after all. Just comatose for a while.”

He knew the words. He knew what they meant individually. But focusing on what they meant all together was harder than it should have been. They just kept trying to disappear into the mental fog clouding his mind. Perhaps he could figure out what she was talking about later.

“On the other hand, the doctors mentioned that unconscious muscle twitches and such can still happen in a coma. Which means we probably shouldn’t get too excited just yet. And it would be a shame if he missed you waking up,” she continued. He felt something lightly pat the back of his hand. “Though I suppose that it would be better than if something went wrong instead.”

He should respond. She was talking to him, so he should try to respond somehow. Not that speaking would work while the unpleasant thing remained jammed down his throat. But he should try.

As exhaustion gnawed at him, Owen’s fingers shifted slightly under her hand. Trying to curl closed or just move a little. He would settle for whatever his battered and tired body could manage. But his coordination wasn’t working the best and his limbs were only cooperating the smallest amount. Which resulted in the same weak twitches as before. And before he could try further, unconsciousness tightened its grip on him and his awareness dissolved once more.

…

…

…

The familiar voice was back when the sea of unconsciousness began to ebb again. A quiet, distracted conversation that Owen could only hear one side of. It wasn’t directed towards him. Owen faintly made out something about meetings and a possible future buyout, but he didn’t want to dwell on the words. The voice itself was far more important than what he was saying.

His mind didn’t feel quite as foggy as before. And while that unfortunately meant that the pain wasn’t pushed away and indistinct anymore, it also made it easier to think. And easier to remember. Owen knew that voice. He could attach a face and a name to that voice now.

Xanatos. The most interesting human that he’d met in a long time. He couldn’t remember many recent events clearly, but he remembered the mortal that he chose over everything else.

Along with the clearer thoughts and his pain growing more distinct again, Owen felt more connected to his actual body in general. It felt heavy and weary, but also more real. Solid.

Experimentally, Owen tried to move his fingers. He managed to curl them closed with minimal stiff effort. Closing them into an actual fist instead of a simple twitch was a sign of progress.

“I’ll call you back,” said Xanatos suddenly. There was a quiet _click_ that was likely from him closing the cellphone. Then he asked quietly, “Owen? Can you hear me?”

He couldn’t answer with the uncomfortable tube down his throat. But with his improved coordination, that was something that he could try fixing now. He could actually do something about the unpleasant sensation that kept gnawing at him. Owen reached up clumsily. But before he could wrap his fingers around the intruding object, something caught his hand and guided it back down. Settling it back on the bed. He couldn’t help digging his fingers into the sheet in annoyance.

“Take it easy. And try to stay still,” said Xanatos. “You’re not in the best condition still. And if you accidentally rip out any of those lines, no one will be happy.”

Which were probably some of the other unpleasant sensations. The stinging, pinching, pinpricks of things poking into him and attached to him. And now that he was thinking about it, Owen was fairly certain that there was something running down his nose that he’d been too distracted by the larger tube in his mouth to notice before. But now he was growing far too aware of the various annoyances.

“I’ve already pressed the call button,” he continued. “A nurse should be here soon to help. They promised to remove some of these things once you were awake and aware. Just give them a few minutes.”

Considering his current track record when it came to clinging to consciousness, Owen didn’t have high hopes. And the longer that he was awake, the more aware of his pain that he became. Under what was undoubtedly plenty of pain medication and that foreign magic humming through him, Owen knew that he was badly hurt. He could tell that much even if he couldn’t remember how it happened. And it wasn’t a uniform pain anymore. He could pick out the specific points. His leg, his side, his ribs, and his head stuck out the most. Especially his head. Passing out to escape the constant throbbing sounded tempting.

But he wanted the tube out of his throat. Which meant staying awake long enough for someone to remove it. And the best way to remain conscious would probably be to try opening his eyes.

The first attempt ended with him wincing against the painful light stabbing into this aching skull. The next try involved a lot of blinking and squinting until he could keep them open. He could make out the blurry white room and some indistinct shapes that could be medical equipment. The annoying _beeping_ was certainly coming from that direction. While Owen mostly enjoyed the identity that he crafted based on Preston Vogel, his vision was something that could have been and probably should have been improved. Without his glasses, he couldn’t make out the details of the figure next to him. That didn’t stop him from recognizing Xanatos.

Then a few more people entered the room. It immediately became a chaotic rush. Not the fun and entertaining kind, but a mess that his bleary mind could barely keep up with.

It was too much happening too quickly. He was abruptly sitting up, though he couldn’t remember moving. They were asking questions, poking and prodding, and shining a bright light in Owen’s eyes. He tried to follow directions even as thoughts grew muddled again. He squeezed someone’s hand when instructed. Then someone mentioned that they were going to remove the nasogastric feeding tube and then the breathing tube.

He couldn’t see exactly how they were doing it. They were too close and he had no idea where his glasses might be. The sensation of them gently pulling a long thin tube out of his nose was indescribably strange, Owen unable to keep himself from pressing his eyes shut.

And they were talking, trying to explain what they were doing and asking questions. The only way that he could respond was by squeezing someone’s hand, but he wasn’t even certain what kind of answers that he was providing since he could barely follow their questions. But as long as he acted like he understood what they were talking about, they would get rid of the tubes that he desperately wanted out of him. He refused to let them stop until the breathing tube was gone.

They poked around his mouth. Inserting things that tried to dry and drain away moisture. Then they were finally extracting the breathing tube. He could _feel_ it sliding out slowly.

And while there was an immediate sense of relief as they pulled the breathing tube out and the invasive thing was gone, the process rubbed at his throat unpleasantly and left it uncomfortable enough to set off an immediate coughing fit. And the coughing turned the ache in his chest into a sharp stabbing pain. The deep spiking pain from battered ribs and other healing wounds. The sharper pain stole away his breath, making the coughing worse as he struggled to breathe. Which made the pain worse in response. It was a vicious unbreakable cycle.

The voices were talking. Instructions, reassurances, or questions, he couldn’t tell. But the feedback loop trapped him until the only escape was passing out. He was grateful for the relief.


	7. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re approaching the end of this fic. It shouldn’t be long now. And I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on this story. Thanks and hopefully I won’t disappoint you in the final lap.

_He struggled against the painfully tight grip on his neck, digging into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. That sparked off an instinctive reaction of horror and panic. He couldn’t breathe and his lungs burned from the lack. There was nothing under his feet and no way to loosen the stranglehold. He clawed and struck out, trying to break free even as part of him knew the danger that would present. He couldn’t help the reaction. But he knew that it would get worse._

_Fear. It clawed in his chest. A form of mortal terror that only came with mortality._

_He was dying from the lack of air, but death could claim him in other ways too. Death was already digging its talons into him in a way that should be impossible for his kind. The Third Race was not meant to die. Not like this. But he was practically human now._

_Then the grip around his throat was gone and he was falling. And the terror multiplied. The rush of air and the sickening twist in his stomach from gravity’s hold stole his breath away before he could recapture it. Blinding fast and wrong. No magic available. No salvation. Only death’s welcoming embrace. He saw the ground swiftly approaching and_ —

A slightly too deep breath sent a brief spike of pain through his ribs, pulling Owen from the nightmare. Blinking blearily and trying to maintain a steady breathing pattern, Owen noticed that the room was darker than before. Only a dim light in the corner. Most likely night had fallen. He used the calm and quiet surroundings to regain his bearings.

The breathing tube was still gone. He was thankful for that. More than he could describe. But there was a thin plastic tube that looped around his ears and attached to his nose to provide cool oxygen. A nasal cannula instead of full intubation. At least it was less invasive.

With his left arm still suspended in a raised sling, Owen could only make use of one arm. He took a slow breath and then tried pushing himself up with his elbow. His limb shook with the effort and he couldn’t help hissing in pain. A second later, he collapsed back down. Owen glared at the ceiling, panting slightly and trying not to be completely frustrated by the failure.

“Hold on,” said Xanatos, the tired and very unexpected voice startling him.

The mildly blurry figure reached over and the hospital bed started shifting with a quiet _hum_. That must have been how the medical staff adjusted it before. Owen had been too distracted and overwhelmed before to notice the exact procedure. Now, he could pay attention. Owen winced slightly, but the motion was slow enough to avoid agitating his injuries too much. Once the bed stopped, he was sitting in a slightly reclined position.

“Your glasses and the cellphone that you had in your pocket were both lost causes,” said Xanatos, slowly shrugging off the drowsy sound to his voice. “Thankfully, I managed to obtain replacements with minimal difficulty.”

He reached over and carefully settled the glasses on Owen, frowning briefly as the nasal cannula got in the way at first. With the return of his glasses, he could finally make out the details of Xanatos’s face. Even in the dim light, he could spot the faint darker circles under his eyes and the stubble that indicated that he was overdue a shave. He’d seen those signs before during those times that Xanatos tried to pull too many all-nighters in a row.

Owen then turned his focus down towards himself. Rather than the colorful fabrics that he favored as Puck or the expensive suits he preferred to wear in his Owen form, he was dressed in an awkward hospital gown. Ugly, uncomfortable, and held together by a few strings. And while the breathing tube was gone, there was still an IV line attached to a vein and some wires to monitor his heart. The source of the annoying _beeping_ that kept grating on his nerves. Wires and tubes that slid under the cotton fabric to wherever the medical staff decided he needed to be poked or prodded. And what skin that he could see was colorful with healing bruises and scabbed over scrapes.

Mostly, he felt grimy and in need of a warm shower. And he could feel the foreign magic lingering just under the surface, cool and soothing. A gentle short-term spell that had settled into every battered part of him.

He opened his mouth, trying to speak. But his throat remained dry and rough from sleep and from an extended period of time with that accursed breathing tube. Rather than the full sentence that he intended, Owen could only manage a weak croak with a single understandable word.

“…water…”

In a bit of a reversal of their normal dynamics, Xanatos quietly stood up and headed to the other side of the room. A few moments later, he returned with a plastic cup with a straw. Owen accepted the offered drink with a slightly shaking hand. The cool water soothed his throat and made him realize how thirsty he was.

“Take it slow,” suggested Xanatos. “You don’t want to overdo it.”

Taking a final slow sip before putting the cup down, Owen swallowed and said carefully, “I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Xanatos, but I wasn’t requesting a drink. I was asking if you used the Unspoken Water on me.”

“That didn’t take you long to figure out,” he said. “Impressive for someone who has barely regained consciousness.”

“It was a reasonable assumption. Even without access to my other capabilities, I can recognize someone else’s magic being used on me. And it was the most likely magical substance in your collection that you might use in a hospital.” Owen took another cool sip of water to ease the scratchy feeling in his throat. “Though it was certain a surprise. You only had a small of Unspoken Water and obtaining more is… not impossible, but certainly approaching it.”

Owen remembered the sheer amount of time, effort, and money invested in gaining even a small vial of Unspoken Water. It wasn’t the immortality that Xanatos wanted, but it was extremely valuable. A contingency plan hidden in a safe in the infirmary, where it could do the most good in an emergency. Because the healing properties of Unspoken Water was something to save as a last resort. Not something to use lightly.

Owen couldn’t ignore the implications of Xanatos using it on him. If Xanatos used the Unspoken Water, then the situation must have been truly grave.

“It was an acceptable cost,” said Xanatos. “I’ve told you before that a loyal and competent assistant is invaluable and irreplaceable.” He settled back in his chair. “How do you feel?”

Handing back over the cup, Owen said, “Rather sore. Though I’m fairly certain that there is some pain medication involved, so it isn’t as bad as it should be.”

“I don’t suppose that any of Alex’s lessons so far have involved healing, have they?”

Closing his eyes briefly, he said, “No, they have not. And in normal circumstances, using the excuse of a lesson to change might be a reasonable idea. I’m fairly certain that I could control the transformation well enough that I could turn back to an uninjured state after the lesson. But the Unspoken Water is still healing everything and I have already told you that mixing magics is dangerous. I would rather not risk some unexpected side effects. Such as reversing what has already healed. I’m afraid that it would be safer to heal the slower way.” He opened his eyes again. “Though it shouldn’t be _quite_ as slow as normal. Even mortal magic is still magic.”

“The human way it is then,” he said quietly, shifting the cup between his hands as he watched Owen try to settle back into a comfortable position on the pillow. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Not completely, I’m afraid,” he admitted. Thinking about the indistinct nightmare and his injuries, Owen said, “I… fell? Or was dropped? Unfortunately, I don’t remember what caused it or what happened before that point.”

He wanted to shake his head to clear his thoughts. But Owen didn’t want to imagine how much that would hurt. He could already feel it throbbing through the pain medication dulling those sensations. It wasn’t worth agitating those injuries. His memories would apparently remain a foggy mess for the foreseeable future.

“Someone named Raven dropped you from the air above the castle,” said Xanatos in a tight voice. “High enough to break several bones and leave you with severe internal bleeding and a traumatic brain injury. It was…” He trailed off in a way that Xanatos never did, glancing aside for a moment. “And after he attacked you, he went after Alex. Or rather, he went to collect him from the people that he hired to kidnap Alex.”

That sparked an instant spike of panic. Pushing himself up a little further and ignoring the immediate pain that sent through him, Owen was already reaching for his locked-away magic. It didn’t matter if he still had mortal magic flowing through his battered body. He didn’t know what kind of damage that might cause, but he would risk it. He was supposed to _protect_ Alex. But he couldn’t grasp his power properly and Xanatos was already pushing down on his right shoulder to make him stay.

“Sir, I—”

“He’s safe,” reassured Xanatos firmly. “I promise he’s safe. He and Fox are at home and the Clan has been staying close most nights in case Raven makes another attempt. I don’t imagine that he will immediately, but the castle is guarded and they are safe.” Now that Owen had settled back down, Xanatos let go and reclaimed his chair. “I can ask Fox to bring Alex to visit tomorrow if that would reassure you. Now that you’re awake, they mentioned bringing you out of the ICU and the other parts of the hospital tend to be more lenient about visitors.”

Alex was safe. Despite Owen’s failures and being removed from play like a particularly useless pawn in a game of chess, Alex was safe. That sense of relief washed over him and pushed away that brief worry. And the annoying _beeping_ slowed once more.

Even without the memories of the sequence of events, Owen could put together the pieces. Raven wanted Alex, either for his own reasons or for Oberon. And his first step was to remove any magical defenses that might stand in his way. Which meant taking out Owen before he could use any of his abilities as Puck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he was targeting Alex. If I had any idea—”

“He didn’t _want_ you to know,” interrupted Xanatos. “Because if you knew, then you wouldn’t be just fighting for your life. You would be protecting Alex. He didn’t want to give you that advantage. No one blames you for not knowing what Raven was planning. We’ll simply prepare better in the future.”

Owen tried to take solace from his reassurance as he settled back against the pillow. He shouldn’t have tried moving. His battered body was complaining sharply despite the pain medication. And now he couldn’t seem to find a position that felt comfortable anymore. Everything ached and every careful move only seemed to make it worse. And the remaining lines and wires were turning into a tangled and frustrating mess.

“How long was I unconscious?” asked Owen, giving up after a moment.

Grimacing slightly, Xanatos said, “Well, you missed Christmas morning. And the rest of the day. And then the start of the new year, though not by too much.”

“I suppose I’ll have to apologize to Alex for missing the festivities,” he said dryly.

Though he couldn’t completely bury his own internal wince. That was at least a little over a week. Not a long amount of time for someone with a lifetime spanning several centuries, but that didn’t mean it was healthy to be unconscious that long. Along with Xanatos’s vague description of his injuries and the fact that he used the Unspoken Water, it was further evidence of just how close Owen must have come to dying. And that was something that no member of the Third Race wanted to contemplate.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you eventually,” said Xanatos, “as long as you manage to come home.”

Smiling wryly, Owen said, “Of course I will, Mr. Xanatos. A lifetime of service, remember?”

Owen didn’t expect the dark look that briefly flashed across the man’s face. Xanatos turned his head to stare at an empty corner of the hospital room. Certainly not the reaction that he would have predicted.

“You could easily leave, Owen. Your heart stopped. Twice,” he said, his tone detached and distant. Another person might have mistakenly believed that his voice meant he was unconcerned and uncaring about the subject at hand. “Technically, you were briefly dead. Any good lawyer or Child of Oberon could claim that fulfills the terms of the agreement. We both know that it easily qualifies as the end of the promised lifetime of service. You don’t owe me anything.”

Owen could have pointed out that his magic would remain bound outside of protecting and teaching Alex, regardless of his deal with Xanatos. Oberon made certain of that. And thus, Owen would always have a strong incentive to stay based on that factor alone.

But he didn’t. At that moment, he didn’t even consider that part. All that he could do was stare at Xanatos and wonder how someone so clever and interesting could think something so blindingly foolish.

“Do you truly believe that I would want that?” asked Owen quietly. “If I ever grew bored or if you ever crossed the line when dealing with me, I have always been capable of making you regret our deal. And a lifetime of service does not guarantee loyal, competent, or productive service. Everything that I have done since that bargain was of my own free will. I chose to remain with you and your family, helping to the best of my abilities and knowledge as Owen. I _want_ to stay.” Reaching up to straighten his glasses, he said, “Of course, you normally seem quite aware of that fact, so we shall be treating that entire idea of yours as a momentary lapse on your part due to unusual current circumstances and ignore that particular loophole. And I intend to remain for as long as I am welcome.”

Turning back and giving a slow smile, Xanatos said, “That’s a relief to hear. Good help is hard to find and I wouldn’t want to attempt running Xanatos Enterprises without your assistance.”

“Oh…” Realization made Owen wince. “How complicated have things been since my absence? There were a few delicate business arrangements in the works and—”

“Don’t worry about it. I shuffled around some meetings, rescheduled a few of them, let some of the smaller deals go, and arranged a lighter workload for the foreseeable future. Not a permanent solution, but one that should be fine for the time being. And what I couldn’t move or drop, I could handle with a stack of reports and your replacement cellphone.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that difficult to resume at least part of my duties soon,” he said.

Chuckling quietly, Xanatos said, “Of course. Though you do recall that we offer a generous benefits package which includes paid sick leave, right?”

“I don’t like the idea of being idle. It would bore me.”

“Which is why I have already ordered an electric wheelchair for you. I thought it would be easier to maneuver with one usable hand than a manual one would be.”

Smiling tiredly, Owen said, “You always plan ahead.”

“And that is why I generally come out ahead,” he said. “Though if it turned out that you needed the wheelchair long term, it would take a little longer to produce a custom one with a few nonstandard features. I’m sure my father-in-law would have some useful suggestions. Built-in particle beam accelerators and jets for flight would be a good place to start.”

“Long term?”

Xanatos’s eyes moved briefly along Owen’s blanketed form. Then he gave a short gesture towards the lower part of the bed.

“There was some damage to your lower spine. Some fractures. There were concerns about the possibility of partial paralysis,” he said. “Though hopefully the Unspoken Water will be enough to remove that danger.”

While his left leg ached enough that he didn’t want to try moving it even with what felt like a sturdy cast around it, Owen managed to shift his right leg slightly. It wasn’t comfortable. But he could move. Which meant he hadn’t completely broken his spine.

“I don’t think I’ll require long term solutions, sir. A little time and rest should take care of me,” said Owen quietly.

“Then you should get some sleep,” he said. “Actual sleep instead of a coma or drifting in and out of consciousness. They’ll be moving you to a different floor tomorrow. And maybe you’ll get to eat some real food.” Xanatos paused for a moment. “Or at least some hospital food. I don’t know if it can truly be called ‘real’ food.”

Owen managed a brief twitch of a smile. Then he reached for the edge of the hospital bed. His fingers fumbled before finding the button. He didn’t lower it completely flat, but Owen reclined his bed until he felt relatively comfortable. Weariness tugged at him. Following Xanatos’s advice sounded like a reasonable idea. Sleep would do him as much good as the mortal magic still humming through his body.

Pulling off his glasses and carefully folding them, Owen said, “Then may I suggest that you follow your own advice and get some proper rest as well. In a real bed rather than that chair.”

“A few nights of poor sleep won’t kill me. But I promise to spend some time in my actual bed soon. After they get you settled in your new room,” he said, accepting the offered glasses and tucking them away for Owen. “And after they provide a proper timeline about your recovery and when you can go home.”

Owen couldn’t bring himself to respond further. Sleep’s pull was too strong. His eyes slid shut and his battered body relaxed. He felt the thin blanket move, gently tugged up further on him. And the annoying beeping slowed to a calm and steady rhythm as he drifted off.

* * *

Raven stared through the window for a moment longer before spreading his wings and taking flight, the small bird disappearing into the night. His plan didn’t work out exactly as he intended or hoped. Puck survived and the boy’s parents reclaimed Alexander Xanatos before Raven could take him to Avalon. And the opportunity to claim the boy had passed. As long as Puck lived, Oberon couldn’t have the boy. Essentially, the entire plan seemed like a failure on the surface.

He had considered finishing the job. A sleeping spell to remove the humans from the equation and then Raven could have slipped in, pinched the breathing tube closed, and waited a few minutes for the inevitable. He could have done it the night after his attack on the Eyrie Building. He could have finished what he started while Puck’s new human master was asleep in the same room. Raven had considered it multiple times over the last several days. It would have been easy. Easy and effective.

But it would be boring. Absolutely boring and dull. And despite how far Puck had fallen, he deserved more respect and a more dignified death than that. He deserved to be awake and aware as he was outwitted by another trickster. He deserved to know who caused his demise. Raven couldn’t motivate himself to finish Puck off like a human putting down a sickly pet.

So he let Puck live. And he tried to look on the bright side. He’d been smart enough not to guarantee that his plan would produce the boy for Oberon. Only that he would create an opportunity. A second chance to snatch away the child and further punishment for Puck’s betrayal. Which was what he accomplished. Raven knew better than to promise anything more than what he knew he could achieve. Oberon didn’t treat failure lightly, so it was best to set reasonable conditions of success.

And thus the plan wasn’t a complete failure. Alexander Xanatos remained with his parents, but Puck had certainly suffered. Almost dying as a fragile mortal. In pain from his battered and broken body. A reminder of his punishment and what it meant to choose a human over Oberon’s commands. A reminder of how weak and vulnerable he was. And with any luck, it would leave a lingering fear that they might try again. That type of suffering should please Oberon, even if it wasn’t the prize that he expected.

Raven glided over the city. He would have to return to Avalon soon. He couldn’t risk staying longer than the promised length of a day in Avalon. He didn’t want to risk being mistaken for someone as rebellious and foolish as the Banshee or Puck.

But since an hour in Avalon was equal to a day to the rest of the world, there was no immediate rush. He wouldn’t want to miss out on some interesting entertainment before he went. And mortals could be truly amusing to toy with.

* * *

“I must once again advise against this,” said Dr. Sato. “Is there any chance that I can convince you to stay a few more days? You’ve only been properly conscious a couple of days. And while your progress has been impressive, the severity of your previous injuries makes me cautious.”

Giving him an unwavering stare, Owen said dryly, “And once again, I understand your concerns. But I must also insist. I have already signed your paperwork and listened to your warnings. Please proceed.”

He gave a short nod at his clipboard and said, “Then I will pass these along and one of the nurses will be in before too long to help discharge you.”

Dr. Sato stepped out of the hospital room and Owen leaned back against the pillow. Maybe it was foolish to leave against medical advice, but he wanted out of the hospital. He was tired of everything to do with it. He would heal better when he could sleep in his own bed. Granted, he wouldn’t be able to go everywhere since the towers were built without wheelchairs in mind. But he would have access to most of the castle by using the elevator and he wouldn’t be stuck in one room anymore. Even someone who _wasn’t_ a trickster by nature would be going a little stir-crazy from boredom.

A quiet knock drew his attention back to the door. He gave a careful nod to Xanatos and Fox, not wanting to risk another headache. Alex squealed from his mother’s arms, reaching both hands in Owen’s direction. The boy was doing everything possible to get to him, wiggling and stretching his grasping fingers. It was his usual method of communicating that he wanted someone since he was still working on using people’s names. And he’d attempted it with every visit so far with the same results.

“Sorry, Alex,” said Fox, shifting her hold on the child. “I know you want Owen, but I still don’t think him holding you right now is a good idea. He’s still a little sore.”

His mouth twitched at the understatement. His bruises and scrapes were fading and the deep cut in his side was healing quite nicely, but not even Unspoken Water could fix everything immediately. It took time. But at least they should prescribe some pain medication when they checked him out of the hospital.

“I hear that you’re checking yourself out,” said Xanatos.

“I am on the mend, you have already ordered an electric wheelchair for my use during the rest of my recovery, I can schedule any necessary physical therapy outside of the hospital, and I’ve wasted enough time here,” he said.

“I wouldn’t call recovering from a coma and your various injuries as ‘wasting time,’” said Xanatos, giving him a firm look. “In fact, I am quite certain that if the circumstances were reversed, you would have some rather disapproving comments if I attempted to push my recovery too quickly.”

“We both know you would have already left,” he said dryly. “Regardless, I have no intention of remaining here any longer than necessary.”

He reached up and pushed his glasses further up his nose. There was no longer a nasal cannula to get in their way. They’d removed most of his lines and electrodes when they moved him out of the ICU. And they’d given him a sling to wear around his neck instead of one that suspended his limb above the bed. His stone hand and left arm weren’t hurt, but they wanted to keep any pressure off his healing collarbone. But he was still stuck wearing the hospital gown and he didn’t know if he could even put on his preferred clothes right now. Not with half of his limbs out of commission. He wasn’t anywhere close to back to normal, but he figured he was at least in good enough shape to leave. After a few days conscious, Owen’s patience with the place was quickly running out.

“It will be good to have you back again,” said Xanatos.

The faint smile and the authenticity to the words gave the simple statement far more meaning than it should have. Just as multiple nights spent waiting for Owen to wake up meant something. There was a reason that he chose to remain with Xanatos and his family when it would have been easier to obey Oberon’s command and return for the Gathering. Owen wanted this life and these people. And in the end, it was worth it. Even having his magic bound, being locked in the form of a human, and being eternally exiled from Avalon.

He hated the lack of choice. He hated having his options taken from him. But he didn’t hate his fate. Because what he had was worth it.

“I hear that someone is ready to go home,” said a nurse as she came in, pushing a wheelchair.

The slightest smile formed at her casual remark. She was right. He wanted to be back where he belonged. Working for Xanatos. Helping run the company. Protecting Alex. He wanted to be in the middle of the creative, interesting, and entertaining mischief that came from being in the same household as the clever and unique human who first caught his attention, the man’s family, and even the clan of gargoyles whose very existence managed to stir up excitement and chaos.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I want to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you everyone who read this story. I hope that you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun writing this, even if it was for an older and small fandom.


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